


MCU Kink Bingo Fills

by 27dragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Consent is Sexy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Edgeplay, F/M, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, Fuck Or Die, Human Furniture, Humor, Intercrural Sex, Knotting, M/M, Manhandling, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mention of switching, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Sexual Kink, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pegging, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safeword Use, Scars, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Threesome, Under-negotiated Kink, Voyeurism, Wall Sex, Wax Play, Zero-gravity sex, healing touch, improvised bondage, light humiliation, sex position dice, suspension play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-01-22 01:16:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Assorted fills for the 2017 MCU Kink Bingo! Which is to say, a whole lot of kinky porn (and some kinky non-porn, but if porn is not your thing, you probably don't want to be here).





	1. Edge On [Bucky/Tony - edging]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is perfectly suited to the task at hand, namely: edging Bucky until he cries.
> 
> (Square I2 - Edging/Edge Play)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship: Bucky/Tony  
> Tags: PWP, Edge Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial

Tony wasn’t the fittest of the Avengers, but he did pretty well. He’d built his first armor by hand, using an actual forge, after all, and that required a certain amount of strength and a great deal of stamina. And when he set his mind to something, he was utterly focused on that goal. Everything else dropped away.

Which made Tony perfectly suited to the task at hand, namely, edging Bucky until he cried.

Bucky’s supersoldier enhancements made him particularly sensitive, giving him something of a hair trigger when it came to sex. Generally, Tony enjoyed that, because those same enhancements had all but done away with Bucky’s refractory period. One of Tony’s favorite things to do was tie Bucky down and make him come six or seven times in a row, until he was a writhing mess of aching muscles and sweat and come, each orgasm nudging closer to the dividing line between pleasure and pain.

But forcing Bucky to ride the edge without coming at all... That took skill, and close attention to detail, and stamina. Tony _loved_ it.

He filled his hand with fresh lube and didn’t bother to warm it up before sliding his hand down Bucky’s straining cock.

Bucky’s hips lurched off the bed, desperately seeking more. “Tony,” he whined, “oh, _fuck_ , Tony, you hafta, please...”

“Shh, just relax, gorgeous,” Tony said, petting Bucky’s cock like a cat, which only made Bucky squirm more. “I’ve got you, I’m not going to let you fall.”

Bucky let out a laugh that was half-sob. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he moaned. “How long y’gonna hold me up like this, without lettin’ me get any relief?”

They’d already been at it for a good while. Tony gave him one good stroke, firm and smooth, and then let go, watching Bucky’s erection bob and twitch as if it had a mind of its own. “Oh, as long as I’m having fun with it,” Tony said easily.

Bucky pulled at the restraints that held his arms, but they held fast. “Tony, _please_ ,” he gasped. “Baby, I’m begging.”

“I know,” said Tony. “And god, don’t I love it. You sound half-broken, so needy and desperate.” He teased one finger along the big vein, skating back and forth over it until he reached the head of Bucky’s cock. “At least I’m not using the warming lube, right?”

Bucky whimpered, because the warming lube drove him absolutely up a wall. Tony wasn’t using it because it made it too easy for Bucky to come. Tony stroked him again, three or four times, enough to make the muscles in his thighs tremble. “God, you’re beautiful like this,” Tony praised him. “I could do this for _hours_.”

“No,” Bucky whined. “Tony, god, _please_...” He struggled against the restraints again. “You’re so _cruel_.”

“You love it,” Tony pointed out. He trailed his fingers lightly over Bucky’s balls, knowing they must be aching, and pressed a fingertip to Bucky’s perineum.

Bucky arched and wailed. “Tony!”

Tony pressed his mouth to Bucky’s knee to smother a grin. “Yeah, baby, I gotcha,” he promised. He pressed two fingers into Bucky’s hole, and Bucky all but howled. Tony kissed Bucky’s knee again and curled his fingers, searching, watching the way Bucky’s cock jumped and spurted precome. Close, closer...

Tony withdrew, and Bucky broke, tears falling from the corners of his eyes to land in his hair. “Tony, please,” he whispered, and _there_ it was, that sweet acceptance that meant Bucky had let go, had floated into subspace.

“Oh, look at you,” Tony purred. He curled his hand around Bucky’s cock -- not stroking, just holding it gently. Bucky rocked into it once, and then went boneless again, though each breath exhaled on a soft whimper of need. “That’s it, you’re just _perfect_ ,” Tony told Bucky. “You’re going to let me take care of you now, huh?”

“Yes, Tony, please,” Bucky breathed. “‘M yours, all yours, please please please please, oh, _god_.”

Tony stroked him, and instead of arching into it, Bucky just moaned in pleasure. God, he was gorgeous like this. Tony almost couldn’t resist giving him what he was begging for, but he wanted to hold it out just a little longer. Another stroke, two, and then he stopped.

Bucky keened at the ache of it, but didn’t protest. More tears leaked from his eyes, even as he locked his gaze on Tony’s face.

Tony lifted his other hand to brush the tears from Bucky’s cheeks. “So good,” he told Bucky. “So sweet and beautiful. Just a little more for me, okay?”

Bucky nodded, more tears slipping from those beautiful, wide eyes.

“That’s it, baby, I’ve got you,” Tony said. “You just leave it to me, and I’m going to make you hurt so good.” He leaned in to kiss Bucky gently, nuzzling and taking his time to taste every corner of Bucky’s mouth, feeling Bucky relax into it farther and farther. “All right, baby, that’s enough of a break, hm? Time to get back to work.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and Tony smiled as he squeezed out a fresh dollop of lube into his hand.

 


	2. Is This the Real Life? [Bucky/Steve/Sam - dirty talk, voyeurism]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky makes sure Sam is out of the way before having this talk with Steve.
> 
> (Square B1 - Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson x Steve Rogers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags:  
> Relationship: Bucky/Steve/Sam (sort of)  
> Tags: PWP, Oral Sex, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism

The ancient, tiny VW Beetle looked perfectly at home, parked outside the seedy motel. “I’m the least recognizable of us,” Sam said. “I’ll go round us up some grub.”

“You speak any German?” Steve asked.

“Are we even still in Germany?” Sam challenged. “Anyway, I saw a convenience store a couple of blocks back. You don’t need to talk for that. Give me the money and I’m good to go.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but he glanced at Bucky sidelong and shrugged, handing Sam a handful of Euros. He started to say something else, then changed his mind. He grabbed the bags Sharon had brought them, and carried them into the room.

“Ain’t you gonna follow him?” Sam asked. “‘S why I volunteered to go, so you two’d have a little time.”

“Nothing I’m gonna say to Steve that I wouldn’t say in front of you,” Bucky said, just to make Sam roll his eyes. Lord, the man was pretty. Bucky shouldn’t enjoy winding him up quite so much, but it was starting to be clear that Sam liked it almost as much as Bucky did, so.

“Whatever, man,” Sam huffed. He shoved the Euros into his pocket and took off down the street. Bucky stayed by the car, watching, until Sam had gone out of sight around a building, and then turned and went into the motel room.

“I see why you like him,” Bucky told Steve. “How come you’re not sleepin’ with him?”

“Didn’t get quite that far before the whole Hydra thing came down on us,” Steve said, not looking at Bucky as he busied himself unpacking clothes that they were just going to have to pack again in twelve hours. Bucky noticed that he hadn’t denied liking Sam. That was good.

“The whole Hydra thing,” Bucky repeated. “You mean me.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, Buck, but there were these big helicarriers, too, and--”

“And you found out I was alive,” Bucky interrupted. “What, you didn’t want to be unfaithful to the murdertoy?”

“You’re not a murdertoy,” Steve protested.

“Not anymore,” Bucky agreed. He stepped into Steve’s space and took away the shirt Steve was holding. He glanced at it -- who the fuck did Sharon think, of the three of them, wore anything like a size M? -- and dropped it back into the bag. “Steve. I’m here.”

Steve closed his eyes and bowed his head. “I know.”

“It ain’t gonna take Sam that long to pick up a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter,” Bucky pointed out. “You want him to come back and find us with my hand down your pants?”

Steve’s breath hitched, and Bucky smirked. “You kinda do want that, don’t ya, you little punk? C’mere.” Bucky tugged, and Steve followed, unresisting, to the bed. Bucky pushed him to sit, then knelt on the floor to work Steve’s shirt off. “You want him to see me teasing these pretty nips of yours, doll?”

Steve flushed brilliant red, but didn’t contradict Bucky. Bucky rewarded him by suiting actions to words, touching all over Steve’s torso, circling and flicking at his nipples, tracing the shape of his pecs, those amazing muscles down his stomach. Steve’s loose-fitting jeans were tenting already, and Bucky smirked at him.

“You like that, don’tcha, sweetheart?” he said, sliding into that thick, lyrical accent like he’d never had it trained out of him. “Like thinkin’ ‘bout him comin’ in and seein’ how much of a gonner you are for this.” Bucky nudged at Steve in a gesture he hadn’t even known he knew, and Steve leaned back, propped up on his elbows and watching Bucky through heavy-lidded eyes.

Bucky pinched one nipple, then the other, and if he’d ever regretted the loss of his arm more, he couldn’t recall it.

“Like thinking about you,” Steve returned, because the punk had always had a mouth on him. “Like feeling you. Like you touching me.”

Bucky pinched harder, punishing, until Steve gasped. “Keep goin’,” he demanded. “Tell me about him, this guy you were gonna replace me with.”

“Couldn't ever,” Steve swore. “Not replacing, Buck, I swear, not even if you were really dead.”

“Damned sap,” Bucky complained. He leaned in to suck at the nipple he wasn't torturing, dragging his teeth over the soft skin and sucking hard enough to bruise. Steve’s cock was hard against his stomach, and Bucky could feel the heat radiating off it, even through their clothes. “Tell me,” he said, “what happens when he gets back.”

Steve shuddered. “Probably he walks right back out ag-- _ow_ , Bucky, _fuck_ , okay! He, he watches, for a bit. Then he, uh. Comes in and, and grabs my hair, pulls it good, pulls my head back.”

Bucky unfastened Steve’s jeans and worked them down Steve’s hips until his cock sprang free. “Go on. What’s next?”

“He, uh... pushes me back on the bed and sits on my chest. Puts his fingers in my-- Oh, _fuck_ , Bucky!”

Bucky pulled back off Steve’s cock with a smirk. “Nuh-uh. You want me to keep going, you gotta keep talkin’, sugarlips.”

Steve whined. “You know I can’t.”

Bucky chuckled, low and evil. “I know you can’t,” he agreed. “Fun to make you try, though. Go on, Stevie-doll, tell me what Sam’s doin’ with his fingers in your mouth.”

“He, he’s fucking my mouth with them,” Steve stammered. Bucky could practically feel the heat radiating off him. “Making me suck them.”

Bucky licked up Steve’s cock like a lollypop. “Keep goin’, sugar. What’m I doin’, while he’s got his fingers in your mouth?”

“Sucking me,” Steve said. “Still. Again. Whatever. Just... Your mouth, Bucky, god...”

Bucky let himself get a good taste of Steve’s cock, and hummed encouragingly until Steve was gasping from the sensation. “Then what, Stevie?” Bucky urged. “What’s he gonna do?”

“Put his cock in my mouth,” Steve said, panting. “Fuck my mouth and my throat, make me gag-- Bucky, _god_ , do that again!” Bucky obliged, and he whimpered around it, but Bucky didn’t have to pull off and encourage him to keep talking.

“Bet he tastes good, Bucky, so good, salt and skin, and he’ll be so thick and heavy.” Steve shuddered with anticipation, or maybe because of what Bucky was doing with his tongue. “He can fuck my throat, an’-- And when he’s close, he’ll pull out and let come all over me, on my face and chest.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bucky heard.

Bucky pulled off of Steve and grinned. Bucky’d wondered how long it would take Sam to find the comms earbud Bucky had slipped into Sam’s pocket, and whether Sam would leave it in when he realized what -- and who -- they were talking about.

“Come on back whenever you’re ready,” Bucky said into his own comm. “I got him all warmed up.”

 


	3. Sexy Lamp [Bucky/Tony - human furniture]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony likes to feel useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags:  
> BDSM, Human Furniture, sub!Tony, Undernegotiated Kink

Bucky was trying to concentrate, but his boyfriend was making it very hard.

“Okay, next you want to--”

“Tony.” Bucky put down his soldering iron and set both hands flat on the table to stare at Tony. “I am not going to learn this if you don’t be quiet and let me figure it out on my own. I know it’s slow. You don’t have to stick around.”

Tony made a face that Bucky had seen before, but still couldn’t quite interpret. Something like panic, something like desperation, something like disgust. Before Bucky could pry into it any further, Tony had covered it over, holding up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I get it, you don’t want me to help.”

“You want to help? Come hold this stupid light for me. It won’t stay at the angle I need.” Bucky demonstrated, pulling the lamp around to the angle he wanted and letting go, only to have the adjustable body droop a few inches, which cast a huge, dark shadow across the circuit board for the robot Bucky was teaching himself to build.

Tony actually perked up. “I can do that!” he said. He came around the table and took hold of the lamp. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks, doll. You make a great lamp.” Bucky leaned over and kissed Tony before picking his soldering iron back up.

It was almost odd, how quiet Tony got while Bucky finished his work. When Bucky looked up, Tony had settled into a comfortable position that still let him hold the light at the proper angle, and his gaze was faraway and dreamy. “You okay, doll?”

“Hmm?” Tony blinked a few times before focusing on Bucky. “Oh, yeah, I’m good. You done?”

“Almost.” Bucky slipped the last wire into place, double-checked his chart, and started burning it into place. “Hold it just like that for another five minutes or so, and then I’ll take you upstairs and pound you right through the mattress, yeah?”

Tony’s pupils dilated so fast it looked like a special effect. “Yeah,” he said, just a bit roughly. “Five more minutes, or ten, or... whatever you need. I can do it.”

Bucky hadn’t intended it to be a reward, but obviously, Tony had taken it that way. Which was... interesting. Bucky shoved the thought to the back of his head and focused on his circuit board.

***

“Sit here,” Bucky told Tony, dropping a cushion on the floor at his feet. A few of them always had to sit on the floor for movie night anyway, he reasoned, ignoring the sudden jump in his pulse.

Tony gave him a measuring look, but shrugged and accepted, wriggling on the cushion until he had Bucky’s leg at his back.

Bucky leaned forward, without disturbing Tony’s seat, and brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair. He tugged on the dark curls until Tony looked at him, upside-down. Bucky smiled and kissed Tony’s forehead. “Hey.”

“Back atcha,” Tony said, smiling.

Bucky held out their bowl of popcorn. “Hold this where I can reach it, okay?” Tony pressing so firmly against Bucky’s leg meant that he couldn’t miss the way Tony’s breath caught and stuttered. “Okay?”

Still staring at him, Tony carefully took the bowl. “Okay.”

Bucky leaned in a little closer, to whisper in Tony’s ear. “Do a good job, and I’ll reward you, later.”

There was no missing the way Tony’s pulse jumped and his breathing sped up. “Yes, sir,” he said, and it sounded like Tony had been aiming for sarcastic and fallen well short of the mark.

***

Panting and sweaty, Tony collapsed to the bed and didn’t move. Bucky chuckled and went to the bathroom for a washcloth to clean them both up, but as he slid the cool cloth down Tony’s spine, he said, “So... this thing?”

Tony flinched, and pulled his arms up to cover his head. “It doesn’t have to be a thing.”

“You like it,” Bucky said.

“Who doesn’t like being useful?” Tony said, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing utterly.

“Is that what it is?” Bucky asked. He trailed a metal finger down Tony’s spine, following the path the cloth had taken. “Feeling useful?”

Tony’s shoulders rippled in a shrug. “Sort of. I don’t know. It just... I can _stop_. For a little while. Just... be whatever I need to be, and not think about anything else.”

“And that turns you on?”

“It lets me relax,” Tony said, “which is a bonus for sexytimes. I like doing things for _you_.”

Well, it wasn't like Bucky didn't know that.

***

Tony came into the penthouse, grinning as he loosened his tie. “God, I love it when Pepper lets me play with the R&D guys,” he said. “How was your day?”

Bucky looked up from his book with a smile. A happy Tony was worth appreciating. “Pretty good,” he said. “Worked out with Steve, went out for lunch with Natasha, worked on my robot a little bit. Reading, some. Gotta say it’s nice, being your kept man.”

Tony laughed and leaned in for a kiss. “At least you put out,” he teased. He pulled back and cocked his head. “Something on your mind?”

Damn, there was no bluffing with Tony, not at all. “Was just thinkin’ about... if you wanted? The thing.”

“The thing where I’m the sexiest lamp you’ve got?” Tony asked, his eyes twinkling. “Your reading lamp looks pretty well situated already, I have to say.”

“It is,” Bucky said, heart jumping and skipping a little. If Tony was already happy, maybe he didn’t need it, wouldn’t want to play. But it hadn’t been an outright rejection, so... “I was thinkin’, though, I could be a little more comfortable, here, if I had somethin’ to prop my feet up on.”

Silence.

For a moment, Bucky thought he’d offended, and then he looked into Tony’s eyes and-- _Oh_.

Tony dragged in a shaking breath as he dropped his tie on the floor. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “That would be a lot better, wouldn’t it? How do you-- Where--”

Bucky tucked his feet back against the chair legs and gestured to the floor in front of him. “Hands and knees,” he said, trying to make it sound more like an order and less like a question.

And Tony just... did it. Still wearing his slacks and dress shirt, he dropped to his knees, shuffled closer to the chair, then set his hands down. His back curved beautifully, presenting the perfect dip for Bucky’s leg or foot to rest in.

God, he was beautiful.

Bucky spared himself another long moment to just _look_ , to appreciate that this gorgeous man was _his_. And then, because he’d been fantasizing about this for half the day, he leaned back into his chair and gently laid one foot on the small of Tony’s back, and then set the other next to it.

Tony shuddered, and all the tension seemed to leak out of his shoulders as his head drooped on his neck.

He was fidgety at first, and Bucky let it go while he re-settled his position a little, obviously getting more comfortable. After a few minutes, Bucky said, “Need to stop, baby?”

“No! No, I’m just...” Tony made a frustrated noise.

Just having trouble getting out of his own head, Bucky mentally translated. He needed a bit of a push. “Stop wigglin’ around, then,” Bucky told him. “Be good.”

Tony’s breath caught. “I can be good,” he said quickly. “I’ll be good.”

“I know you can,” Bucky said. “Try and be still for me, all right?”

Tony nodded, and the fidgeting didn’t stop immediately, but it slowed down a lot. And then more. And then even more. Bucky watched in awe as even more tension leaked out of Tony’s body, letting his shoulders droop, his back muscles ease, and even his glutes went slack. “There you go,” Bucky praised him. “There’s my sweet fella.”

He couldn’t read anymore -- he needed to stay alert to Tony’s reactions, and anyway, watching Tony so sweet and pliant was a treat in itself -- but he turned a page from time to time, just to give Tony something sensory to hang onto.

Tony’s stamina was impressive for a baseline human’s, but after some time, his arms and shoulders began to tremble with exhaustion. “Hey, baby,” Bucky said softly, “check in with me, here.”

“I can do it,” Tony said. “I can be good, I can do it.”

“I know you can, doll, I know.” Shit, how did he call a halt without making it obvious that it was because of Tony’s limitations? Because that was sure to send Tony into some kind of horrible mental spiral. Tony was sure hard on himself sometimes. “I’m just gettin’ close to the end of my chapter, here. You think you can hold out another couple minutes?” There. A challenge, but hopefully not too difficult.

“I can do it,” Tony agreed. “Just...” He picked up one arm and shook it out a little, and then the other. “Okay, I’m good.”

“You sure are, sweetheart,” Bucky said. “So good for me.”

Tony didn’t answer that, but the blush that spread down his neck to disappear under Tony’s collar made words unnecessary.

Bucky waited until the trembling in Tony’s arms came back, and then turned into outright shaking, before he finally closed his book and sat up, putting his feet on the floor. “There, that was perfect, doll.”

Bucky leaned in and nudged Tony to sit back on his heels. The expression on Tony’s face was dreamy, almost dazed. “Are you done?”

“I’m never gonna be done with you,” Bucky promised warmly, “but I’m done with my book for now, yeah. Come on, baby, let’s get you undressed and tucked into bed.”

“Mmmokay,” Tony agreed, though he needed Bucky’s help to get back to his feet. Bucky maneuvered him to sit on the side of the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt. “Bucky?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I wanna blow you.”

A shudder rippled through Bucky’s body. “That... that sounds good, doll. Gonna let me return the favor, after?”

“If you want,” Tony said, careless as always with his own pleasure.

“I want,” Bucky said, cupping Tony’s chin and drawing him in for a slow kiss. “I want a _lot_.”

Tony hummed happily into the kiss, then broke away with a giggle, half-drunk on endorphins. “Sexy lamp,” he whispered, and fell back onto the bed with another helpless laugh.

Bucky stripped off his shirt and climbed onto the bed with his boyfriend. “God, I love you.”

 


	4. Blind Faith [Scott Lang/Steve Rogers - blindfold]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one's ever looked at Scott the way Steve does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Blindfold, Light D/s

Scott was used to people not taking him seriously. That wasn’t anything new. People looked at him and saw, at best, a stammering, overeager puppy of a man who was always blundering into things without thinking them through. Maggie had found it charming, when they’d first met.

Mostly, Scott didn’t mind that. Being underestimated was good for him; it made it easy to do the things he wanted to do, and go the places he wanted to go.

Captain America “call me Steve” did not look at Scott like that. At least, not anymore. He had at first, and that was _fine_ , having Captain America look at him _at all_ had been an honor, and one that Scott was acutely aware he hadn’t earned. Rather the opposite, really.

But then that fight had happened, and the team had pulled together to let Capta-- _Steve_ get away with the Winter Soldier, to go save the world despite itself, and that was something that had felt familiar.

Steve was very apologetic about it when he’d sprung them all out of the Raft. “I should never have asked any of you to endure this, not for me,” he said. And then he’d turned to Scott and said, “Especially not you. You barely know any of us.”

“Hey,” Scott said, “if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s taking a fall.”

He didn’t know why Steve looked so stricken at that, but then he did, and Jesus, could he put his foot in it any deeper?

But Steve just gave him a watery smile and clapped his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Lang,” he said.

“Scott,” Scott corrected, because if he ever got to see Cassie again, he could tell her that he was good friends with Captain America.

“Scott,” Steve agreed, and he was looking at Scott like... Like... Like someone worth looking at. Like someone worth looking _up to_ , for fuck’s sake, and Scott could barely handle that from Cassie, the hell if he was taking it from Steve Rogers.

“Stop it, man,” he said. “Stop looking at me like that, you’re going to give me a complex.” Steve’s smile just went proud, and Scott groaned, a little. “Seriously, stop,” he said. “Do I have to put a blindfold on you or something?”

And Steve’s eyes went round and wide and dark, and a blush bloomed on his cheeks, and _oh holy shit_ , had Scott just _randomly happened to guess_ the man’s secret favorite kink? Before Scott could properly process that, Steve’s eyes flicked down, and back up, and his smile... _changed_ , and he said, “You might just have to do that.” That was... that was _not_ his “good work, soldiers!” tone, that was something very different. Something a little darker and a little more playful and a _hell_ of a lot sexier.

Very few people took Scott seriously, but that didn’t mean he _shouldn’t_ be taken seriously. Scott was socially inept, okay, but he was _not dumb_ , and he was quick on the uptake when it mattered.

And this mattered. It mattered a _lot_.

So he matched that smirk of Steve’s and said, “You just let me know when you’re ready for that.” He shook Steve’s hand -- and this time, when it dragged on a little too long, it was on purpose -- and then he walked away.

***

Scott spent the rest of the day trying to convince himself he’d imagined the whole thing. Captain America was a straight white guy from the 1940s who was effortlessly sincere and unironically said things like “Gee willikers” and thought “gosh darn” was strongly-worded language.

That was Captain America, though, and Steve Rogers... was no longer Captain America, as it turned out. He’d raided the Raft wearing jeans and a leather jacket. He was a sarcastic little shit, swore like the soldier he’d been, and from the way he’d looked at Scott, he _definitely_ wasn’t straight.

So Scott wasn’t _entirely_ surprised when a soft knock sounded on his door late that night. His cock was already twitching with interest before he got the door open.

_Damn._ Did the guy even know what he looked like in tight jeans and a painted-on tee?

Probably. He wasn’t considered a tactical genius for nothing. _Play it cool, Lang._

“Something I can help you with?” Scott asked guilelessly.

“You did offer to help me with my vision problem,” Steve said. His pupils were already blown wide, and Scott didn’t think it was just the dim light of the corridor.

“Yeah, I’ve got something for that.” He stepped back and waved Steve in. “Step into my office.”

Steve stepped into the room and looked around, eyes darting everywhere: the bed, the chair, the table where Scott had been working on his Pym particle rig, the door to the bathroom, the window, the bed again, the dresser, the art on the wall.

“Jesus, you _do_ need a break from it, don’t you?” Scott said, watching that dance.

Steve pulled a face. “I can’t stop,” he said. “Situational awareness, it’s... Once I get going, it’s hard to turn it off.”

“And covering your eyes, that helps,” Scott guessed.

Steve’s mouth quirked upward in a self-deprecating grin. “Sex helps, too.”

Scott laughed. “Yeah, you’re going to be fun. Fair warning -- I don’t think I’ve got the stamina to really wear you out.”

Steve shook his head. “Don’t have to. Just need to get out of my head for a second, and the rest will follow.”

“Okay,” Scott said. “Okay, let’s... You’re sure you want to do this with me? Man, any one of those guys would probably be happy to help you out.”

A warm hand curled around Scott’s shoulder. “I’m sure,” Steve said.

Wow, that was... Wow. That sincerity thing, that wasn’t Captain America. That was Steve Rogers, all the way down. “Uh. Okay, so...” Scott shook off the daze and rummaged in the dresser. He had some strips of the special fabric his suit was made of, for repairs, but they were long strips about the width of his hand, which meant they were probably just about perfect to use as a blindfold.

Steve was a little taller than Scott and a lot broader, but he bent down without a single complaint so Scott could tie the strips into place. “There. Good?”

Steve lifted his head and looked around, aiming his face toward the lamp, where the brightest light was. His breath came out on a shudder. “Yeah, that’s... that’s good.”

Scott felt a little like sighing, himself. It was a lot easier, without Steve’s eyes on him.

“So I know you like jumping without a parachute,” Scott said, and grinned at the huff that got from Steve. “But I need to have one.” He started peeling up Steve’s shirt. “So if you say stop, or just take off the blindfold, then we’ll stop. Regroup or full halt, whatever you need. Got it?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “Take off... You’re not going to tie me down so I can’t?”

“What would be the use in that?” Scott said. “Pretty sure you can break through whatever I could cobble together as a restraint. More fun if you have to do it yourself, anyway.” He pulled the shirt over Steve’s head, careful not to disturb the blindfold, and draped it carefully over the chair.  Steve responded to a gentle nudge, falling back onto the bed.

More pushing and nudging got Steve properly lined up on the bed. Scott pulled his hands up and tucked them under the pillow. “Keep them there,” he said. “Unless you’re ready to quit. Try not to rip my pillow to pieces, while you’re at it. I’ve only got the one.”

Steve nodded agreement, and Scott went to work on Steve’s jeans. That was more effort than he’d expected, because _damn_ , those things were _tight_. Also, what was _under_ them was more than a little distracting, because Steve was already hard, wriggling slightly with every little touch, and Scott couldn’t help playing with that reaction, “accidentally” brushing against that thick hardness with his arm or the back of his hand as he peeled down the jeans.

Steve was already moaning, and his pants weren’t even all the way off. Well, it had been a very tense couple of weeks; the guy was probably ready for some relief. Scott stripped Steve’s jeans the rest of the way off, then got off the bed to strip down, himself.

Steve’s head turned, following the sound. “Be right back,” Scott told him. “Damn, but you’re fucking _gorgeous_. Enough to give a guy a complex, here.”

Steve snorted. “Came out of a bottle,” he said, with an air of quoting someone. “Should’a seen me before.”

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Scott said, kicking his own pants off. “You were kind of cute, even then.”

Steve seemed to relax a little at that. “So let’s do this,” he said.

“God, you’re impatient,” Scott said, climbing back onto the bed. He smacked at Steve’s thigh playfully. Steve inhaled quickly -- _another_ one? Scott was going to have to explore that later. For now, he squirmed his way between Steve’s legs, letting himself look his fill now, while Steve couldn’t see.

Scott let himself _touch_ \-- varied and random, not sliding from spot to spot but picking and choosing, the better to keep Steve guessing. Washboard abs. Pecs almost like a girl’s boobs, they were so big, but firmer and less round. _So not at all like a girl’s boobs, thanks very much Lang, try to keep up._ The inside of one heavily-muscled thigh. Along the vee of Steve’s hip. A light touch down the column of Steve’s throat.

Steve surged up into every touch, begging wordlessly for more, breath short and ragged within a matter of minutes. “C’mon,” he begged, biceps bunching as his hands curled and uncurled under the pillow. “Touch me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Scott teased, dragging fingertips down Steve’s stomach and parting his hands just before they came in contact with that heavy cock.

Steve _whined_. “Scott...”

That was damned hard to resist. Impossible, really. Scott didn’t have any choice but to lean over and lick a stripe up Steve’s dick.

“Ogod,” Steve gasped. “Do that again.”

No one wanted to be blindfolded and then have a wholly predictable fuck. “Maybe in a little bit,” Scott said, and went back to that random touching. He stepped it up a notch, though, occasionally tweaking a nipple or sliding a finger down Steve’s cock.

When Steve was squirming and writhing, Scott wrapped a hand around Steve’s length and gave it a few good strokes. Steve surged into the touch, head tipping back to expose his throat. “Oh, god, Scott, please...”

That was, that was a heady sense of power right there. Scott’s own breath went a bit rough. “I like that,” he said. “The begging. Feel free to keep that up.”

Steve did, a steady stream of pleas and demands that made Scott’s body feel primed and tingly, even as he slowly, teasingly, sucked down Steve’s cock. Jesus, the man was big; Scott practically had to unhinge his jaw to fit it in. But worth it, _so_ worth it, in the way Steve cursed and begged even harder.

He kept it up, teasing touches alternating with his best blowjob and jerkoff tricks, until Steve was covered with a light sheen of sweat, his body bowed off the bed in desperation, trembling with the effort of keeping his hands in place. “Scott,” he whined, “Scott, _please_ , I can’t...”

“Come on, big guy,” Scott said, and swallowed Steve right down. He couldn’t fit the whole thing in his mouth, but Steve didn’t seem to care. One, two, three bobs of the head, and Scott flicked his tongue across Steve’s slit to taste the precome there. Steve gasped and then _howled_ as he came.

Scott swallowed fast, but it was more than he could keep up with, and come dripped down his chin as he tried to stroke Steve through it.

Finally, Steve went limp. “Fuck,” he panted. “Oh, god, _fuck_. Gimme... Gimme a minute to recover and I’ll return the favor.”

Scott wiped off his face and grinned. “Take your time, big guy,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He thought, when the blindfold came off, that the way Steve looked at him was going to change again. And that might just be okay.


	5. And Throw Away the Key [Bucky/Tony - Cockring/Cock Cage]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony would like it to be known that he hates being ringed and caged. (Bucky knows better.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: BDSM, Cockring, Cock Cage, Overstimulation, Safeword Use, Light Humiliation, Mention of Switching

“Tell me your words, baby,” Bucky said, leaning against the wall.

“Yellow for a pause, red to stop,” Tony said. He pulled off his shirt, and unfastened his pants.

“Good.” Bucky watched Tony finish stripping, then held out a hand, inviting Tony to get onto the bed. “Lie back,” he said.

As soon as Tony was lying down, Bucky pushed off the wall and came over to the bed. “Step one,” he said lightly. “We gotta get you outfitted.” Tony didn’t have time to ask what that meant before Bucky was slipping a cockring around Tony’s still-soft dick.

Tony whined in protest. The cockring made him _ache_ , and he both loved and hated it.

Bucky chuckled. “If you think you’re upset now, just wait.” He opened the drawer and took out--

Oh, no. “No,” Tony complained. “Bucky.”

“Yes,” Bucky said with smug satisfaction. He ignored Tony’s pouting and carefully fitted the cock cage, mouth curving into a smirk as the lock _snk_ ed shut. “There you go, how’s that?”

Tony grumbled. “It’s terrible.”

“I know, baby, but it looks so pretty on you.” Bucky leaned in to claim a kiss, and Tony was never going to deny him that. Bucky’s kisses were perfect, warm and sweet and thorough.

Tony let himself sink into it, arms wrapping around Bucky’s shoulders, until his cock tried to harden, and ran into the barrier of the cage. “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he cursed. “Already, that’s...”

Bucky laughed, soft and evil. “So gorgeous when you’re desperate,” he said, trailing those kisses along Tony’s jaw to nuzzle at his ear. “Love seeing you squirm and beg,” he whispered into Tony’s ear. “Love knowing you’re _all mine_.”

Tony whimpered again, because Bucky’s possessive streak was _so hot_ , and Tony’s body wasn’t allowed to express his appreciation. God, he hated the cage. (He loved it, too; it meant Bucky was planning something... lengthy.)

Bucky brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair. “You ready for your collar, pretty boy?”

Tony nodded quickly. The collar... it was easier, somehow, to endure anything when he had the collar on. When it was something he was doing for Bucky. Its reassuring weight against his throat helped keep him centered and grounded, gave him a point to focus on when he was starting to drift.

Bucky pulled Tony up to sitting -- he grimaced at the way it made his cock and his balls shift and bump against the cage -- and gently, reverently, fastened the leather and gold collar around Tony’s neck. “There you go, gorgeous,” Bucky said. “All dressed up for me.”

Tony swayed forward to put his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder, fighting through the first shudders and judders he always felt.

“Shhh, baby,” Bucky said, petting down Tony’s spine. “It’s okay.”

After a moment, it passed, as it always did, and Bucky lifted Tony’s chin and kissed him again, hotter, as if the way Tony went pliant with his collar made Bucky that much more fierce. Tony hissed as his cock tried to fill, and Bucky just hummed and kept kissing him, kept stroking his hand down Tony’s back, and then back up to curl lightly over his shoulders.

“I know, babydoll,” Bucky soothed when he pulled away. “I know it aches. I know you love it, too.”

“Do not,” Tony muttered, but he kind of did, too.

“On your stomach for me, baby,” Bucky said. “Lemme have a good look at that pretty ass of yours.”

Tony rolled onto his stomach and groaned at the feel of his restrained cock rubbing against the soft towel Bucky had put down for him.

“Feels good, huh?” Bucky asked. He stroked down Tony’s spine a few times, like he was petting a cat. “You can rub off against the bed if you want, babydoll, but you’re just going to end up sore and frustrated.”

“I know,” Tony groaned, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to help himself anyway. “I hate you so much.”

“Love you, too, baby,” Bucky said, and Tony’s stomach filled with a warm flutter, the way it always did when Bucky said that. “You’re only gettin’ what you paid for, you know. How long did you keep me on the edge, t’other night?”

Tony folded his arms and put his forehead on them so he could grin down into the bed without Bucky seeing. “Most of an hour,” he admitted.

Bucky flicked him on the curve of his ass, barely enough to sting. “Smug bastard,” he said affectionately. “So I think I’m owed a little somethin’, don’t you?”

Tony lifted his head and twisted to look at Bucky with wide eyes. “No?” he tried.

Bucky just snorted. “You anglin’ for a spanking, too, brat?”

Tony had to chase after his breath. Bucky had spanked him with the cockring on a couple of times -- that had been luminous torture, all that heat draining into his balls and cock, only to find no outlet. What it must be like with a _cage_ on, as well... “No, no, no,” he begged.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” Bucky said, smoothing his hand over Tony’s rump. “But I’m not above changin’ plans if it’s warranted.”

“I’ll be good,” Tony promised, because that sounded like something that he really needed to spend some time mentally bracing for.

Bucky reached into the drawer and took out a bottle of lube. “Head down, baby. Just relax and let me play with you.”

A shudder dragged through Tony at that, but he put his head back down on his arms.

The bottle clicked open and then closed again, and Bucky teased his fingers along Tony’s crack, nudging Tony’s legs wider.

Tony was torn between trying to ignore what Bucky was doing in the hope of staying flaccid longer, or just giving in and riding the pain right from the beginning.

Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been able to ignore Bucky from the first day they’d met. Tony rolled his hips back into Bucky’s touch, then thrust down against the bed and the towel, whining at how _good_ it felt, like scratching an itch even though you knew you shouldn’t.

Bucky pressed into his hole with two fingers and no warning, which was a mercy in disguise, as the cold lube and the burning stretch gave him a minute to get his cock under control. He relaxed a little, and Bucky petted his hip and thigh with the metal hand. “Good, baby, that’s perfect, just like that.”

The sweet talk made Tony relax more, and he managed to take a deep breath and go limp, letting Bucky finger him open.

Time stretched and folded like taffy; Bucky fingered Tony’s ass for what seemed like hours, gently and scrupulously stretching him open. Bucky avoided Tony’s prostate, thank god; that would have been unbearable in the cage. It almost seemed like he really was just playing with Tony for his own amusement, tugging this way and that, catching a fingertip on the rim and pulling at it, pushing in deep and slow sometimes, and other times fucking in with quick, shallow thrusts.

All the while, Bucky talked, telling Tony how beautiful he was, how good, how sweet and perfect. It was hard to believe some of it, but the praise eventually stopped scraping raw against his insides, and Tony just let it fall into him, making him warm.

At some point, he realized he was humping the bed again, and had been for a while, half-sobbing with the pressure and the pain. The towel, which had seemed so soft when he’d first laid down, now felt scratchy like sandpaper. He was going to chafe unbearably if he kept it up, and that was pain that would not be fun later, when they were done. “Bucky,” he gasped. “Bucky, honey, I can’t, I-- Yellow, honey, I have to...”

Bucky pulled free and wiped the lube off on the towel before setting his hand flat on Tony’s back. “What is it, baby? What’s wrong?”

“Too much,” Tony panted. “Can’t stop rubbing, and it hurts wrong.”

“Oh, babydoll,” Bucky said, rubbing lightly at Tony’s back. “Okay, tell me what you need, Tony. Would it help if I got you up on your knees so you couldn’t rub on anything? Or do you need it all off?”

Tony shook his head. Torture though the devices were, they were keeping him from _thinking_ , and he needed that. “Knees,” he managed.

“All right, baby, we’ll try that,” Bucky agreed. “You let me know if that’s too much, too, okay?” He put his hands on Tony’s hips and lifted, helping Tony into position. “Keep your head down,” he said. “I still want you to relax as much as you can, okay?”

It already felt better, having cooler air around his sensitive cock, and nothing rubbing against it. Tony nodded and tried to sink back into that blissful headspace he’d been in before.

Bucky went back to fingering him, teasing at Tony’s inner walls, tugging at his rim, spreading him out and making him sob and whimper at each surge of wanting. His head felt fuzzy with the wild swing between pleasure and pain, living in the staticky border between the two.

He lost track of time again, though his knees were beginning to ache a little when Bucky pulled his hand free again and kissed a line of sweethot kisses up Tony’s spine. “Gonna fuck you now,” Bucky said, low and dark. “Okay, baby?” Tony nodded, and Bucky kissed his shoulder in reward. “You think you can hold out in the cage for a little bit longer?”

Oh, _god_ , wearing the cage while Bucky was fucking him would be... Would be like Tony was just a plaything, a hole to toy with and fuck. The humiliation of it hit Tony so hard that it startled a grunt out of him. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Please, oh please.”

“Good boy,” Bucky said, rewarding him again with a light touch of his metal fingers to Tony’s neck, even as his other hand clicked open the bottle of lube again. “Stay down for me.”

He’d worked Tony open so thoroughly that he didn’t have to slow down at all once his thick cock had breached Tony’s hole. A long, slow slide, and Bucky was seated in Tony’s ass, right up to the hilt. “You feel so good, babydoll,” Bucky purred. “So hot and slick and tight. Not gonna be able to drag this one out very long.”

That was a mercy, too, because Bucky was so thick that it was almost harder for him to _avoid_ hitting Tony’s prostate with each thrust. And each lightning strike of pleasure made his cock swell in its cage, pressing tight against the metal. It wasn’t long at all before every thrust made Tony wail and keen.

As Bucky closed in on his orgasm, he curled a hand around the cage, lightly stroking Tony through it, and Tony _screamed_.

“--good, so fucking good,” Bucky was crooning when Tony came back to awareness. “So perfect for me, baby. God, I love you, love you so much, and you’re so good to me.” Tony turned his head to look over his shoulder at Bucky.

Bucky brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair. “Hey, baby, you back with me now?”

Tony didn’t think he could form words, so he nodded.

“Good,” Bucky said. “Hey, come on, sit up for me a minute, can you do that?” He coaxed Tony to hold on to him, and helped Tony sit up. “That’s a good boy. Can you drink a little water for me, here?” He offered Tony an opened bottle.

It took a couple of tries for Tony to get hold of it in his trembling hands, but eventually he managed to lift it to his mouth and take a few swallows. It felt cool and soothing sliding down his throat.

“I’m gonna take off the cage now, baby, okay?” Tony nodded quickly, and Bucky chuckled as he opened the catches on the cage that let it swing open. “Aw, your poor dick,” Bucky said, “it looks so abused.”

Tony shuddered. Bucky wiped at his face and kissed him gently. “You think you’re up to some more, sweetheart?”

Tony nodded. He was floating; his head felt light and not quite anchored, like being on cold meds without the sleepiness or the being sick. He drifted from thought to thought slowly, and wondered idly if this was what it was like for normal people. He didn’t want it to end.

Bucky was laying him back, taking the water bottle and setting it aside. God, he was beautiful. Tony was so lucky. He wanted to tell Bucky how lucky he was, that Bucky loved him, but words still weren’t quite forming.

Bucky brushed a tear from Tony’s cheek. “You okay, baby?”

Tony nodded and smiled. Bucky took such good care of him.

“Babydoll, gimme a color, can you do that?” Bucky stroked his cheek again, fond and sweet.

God, talking was hard, but for Bucky, Tony could do anything. “...reen,” he managed.

Bucky smiled a little wider. “That’s good baby, thank you.” He wriggled between Tony’s thighs, gently folding Tony’s knee back. When he slid into Tony’s body this time, there was barely any resistance at all, just a warm stretch and a hint of ache. “You feel so good, Tony.”

Tony _did_ feel good. He felt warm and protected and safe and-- Bucky’s cock dragged across his prostate and _oh_ that felt _amazing._ He flinched a little as his own cock responded, half-expecting the cage, but the cage was gone, and his cock swelled, aching as it finally stretched.

“That’s it, baby,” Bucky said, and he was rocking in and out of Tony’s body, easy and smooth. “We’ll make this one last a little while, yeah?”

It was nothing but pleasure for a long while, not even any rawness left from rubbing against the towel. Just the push and pull of Bucky’s cock inside him, the heat of Bucky’s body covering his, the quiet squelch of lube and the panting of Bucky’s breath against his ear and neck.

Bucky leaned on the metal arm and curled his human hand around Tony’s cock, and that felt, that felt _so_ good. Easy strokes, gentle on Tony’s aching cock, even slower than Bucky’s thrusting. Heat pooled in Tony’s balls, a dance of miniature lightning that climbed slowly up Tony’s spine, and then back down, shooting sparks toward Tony’s cock that were deflected--

 _The cockring_. In his circle of love and hate with the cage, he’d forgotten about the cockring.

“Oh god,” Tony whispered as yet another spark of pure _need_ was deflected back into his belly. “Bucky...” He squirmed, trying to twist his hips in a way that would somehow let the heat pass through that barrier.

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky said. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Tony bit his lip and arched his back, desperate now.

Bucky took advantage of the position to duck his head and nip lightly at Tony’s nipple.

“Oh! Bucky, _please_ ,” Tony begged. “Please, I need...”

“I know, babydoll,” said Bucky softly. “I’m gonna give it to you, just like you need it,” he promised. He rolled his hand over the head of Tony’s cock, making the fire leap and crackle. “I’m just gonna take my time about it.”

“Ohhhhhhhh,” Tony whined. “Please, Bucky, please please please...”

“Mmm, you know I love it when you beg,” Bucky said. “You go on and say whatever you’ve gotta say, pretty boy. I understand. I’m just gonna keep going at my own pace. Maybe we should see how many times I can go before you come right through this ring, huh?”

“Nooooo,” Tony begged. “Bucky, no, please.”

Bucky chuckled wickedly, but he kissed Tony’s mouth so tenderly. “Nah. Not since you’ve been in the cage already. That’s too much for one day. Maybe next time, hm?”

Tony whimpered wordlessly, squirming and arching under Bucky’s hand.

The heat built. And built. And _built_ , until Tony felt like there was a raging inferno in his cock and his balls, desperate to be quenched. Twice, Tony’s balls had tightened, seeking release, but been stymied by the damn ring.

Once he’d found words again, Tony couldn’t seem to _stop_ , spouting a constant stream of begging and cursing and pleading and bargaining, anything that entered his head that he thought might get him the relief he so needed.

Bucky just kept rocking in and out of him, thrusting slow and hard and maddeningly perfect. Tony barely noticed Bucky’s rhythm beginning to falter; all he could do was gasp and writhe and beg and--

Bucky groaned, long and low, and drove deep, his cock pulsing out his orgasm. His hand tightened on Tony’s cock, then scrabbled for the ring's release. “Come for me, babydoll,” he rasped. He thrust into Tony’s body a few more times, milking out the last of his orgasm. “Wanna feel you clench around me, need--”

The fire ignited Tony’s body, turning his blood into molten iron. He felt the heat flash through his body, a white-hot burning that traveled to the very tips of his toes and his fingers, and consumed all thought and vision.

When he could see again, Bucky was stretched out next to him, lightly trailing cool metal fingers over Tony’s still-overheated skin. “Welcome back,” Bucky said with a small, pleased smile.

“You’re not allowed to use cockrings anymore,” Tony croaked, not meaning a word of it.

“Uh-huh,” Bucky said, smug. “We’ll see.” He kissed Tony’s shoulder. “How you feeling, baby?”

“Like a limp dishrag,” Tony said. “Don’t ask me to move. For at least the next twelve hours.”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed. He scooted a little closer and kissed Tony’s collarbone, then sucked on it to draw up a mark. “I’ll do all the moving for you. You want a bath?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “And a snack.”

“I can do that,” Bucky said. He slid his arm under Tony’s shoulders and gently lifted until Tony was sitting. He leaned Tony back against Bucky’s chest, and offered him the water bottle again.

“Nope, not moving,” Tony said, cheerfully bratty. “That includes my arms.”

Bucky huffed, but they both knew that Bucky liked to spoil Tony after a scene. Bucky held the bottle to Tony’s lips and helped him drink a few swallows. “Okay, let’s go have that bath now,” he said, shifting to make it easier to carry Tony. “And then we can watch a movie and have our snack. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Tony admitted, snuggling into Bucky’s embrace.

 

 


	6. Extenuating Circumstances [Peter Quill/Stephen Strange, Fuck or Die]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really needs to be more careful about what he touches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Fuck or Die, Oral Sex, Dubious Consent

They weren’t the _least_ likely team-up the Avengers had ever put together, but it was right up there. But there wasn’t much use in denying the Avengers’ logic: Some sort of portal had appeared in the middle of fucking nowhere, and after two days of study, none of the Avengers had been able to determine whether it was of magical/extra-dimensional or extraterrestrial origin.

So they’d contacted the best magic-user they knew -- that was Strange -- and their most sympathetic expert on galactic culture -- that was Peter -- and thrown them both at the portal, with a request to identify and classify it.

It sure as heck wasn’t like anything Peter had ever seen. Well, it looked a _little_ like this one drawing he’d seen in a temple on Iskandis IV, but the writing and pictograms framing this one definitely were _not_ Iskandian. He leaned closer to look at the pictograms.

“Don’t touch those!” Strange said.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Peter said. “I’m just looking. You recognize any of this stuff?”

“I know some of those runes,” Strange said in a foreboding tone. “The monks of the Zentelian order use them in their most perverse rituals.”

“Hey, don’t be down on the perverse,” Peter said. “Just ‘cause you--” He really hadn’t meant to touch the runes. He’d just put his hand down to brace himself as he was standing up again, was all. But somehow, his fingers brushed the edge of a rune, and he felt it, the moment it flared to life. “Oh, shit.”

Now he felt... lightheaded, a little weak. “Oh, _shit_.”

“What did you touch?” Strange demanded, pulling him away from the rest of the runes. One little picture was glowing gently purple, which made Peter kind of want to touch it again.

“I don’t know!” Peter said. “That one, I assume. Why do I feel all woozy, all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s draining your life force,” Strange said, grim. His cloak wrapped more tightly around him, protectively. Peter still hadn’t worked out if it was a magical extension of Strange’s subconscious, or if it was a sentient thing in its own right. Which was a weird thing to have to wonder about a cloak.

“Great,” Peter sighed. “So how do we turn it off? If I go get in the _Milano_ and head for the next galactic arm--”

“You’ll be dead long before you get there,” Strange said. “This isn’t a function of _distance_. Now that it’s keyed to you, it won’t be satisfied until you’ve given it a pyschomantic link in the form of genitive and generative life essence.”

Strange’s words didn’t make much sense until Peter spotted the way the doctor was flushing, just a hint of it peeking out from under the cloak’s wrap. “Wait,” Peter said. “You’re telling me the the only way to turn it off is to jack off on it?”

Strange set his jaw. “No. Medically identical though they may be, the _magical_ properties of seminal fluid produced through masturbation are wholly different from those created in union with another. It has to do with--”

“You’re saying it won’t let me go until someone else jacks me off,” Peter said.

The blush climbed a little higher up Strange’s throat. “In essence.”

“How much time do we have?”

“I’m not certain. How do you feel?”

“Gettin’ pretty dizzy.”

“Then likely less than an hour,” Strange said.

Peter blinked at him. “That’s not enough time for us to, y’know, call someone in to help me out.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Which means--”

“I’ll have to do it,” Strange finished for him.

“Try not to get too flustered about it,” Peter said. “I know I’m a pretty big name, galactic savior and all, but you’re not small fry, you’ve got that big-shot sorcerer thing going for you, so--”

“I’m not flustered,” Strange said sharply.

“Oh, good,” said Peter. “Maybe it’s the dizziness that made it sound like you weren’t too happy, but hey, what’s a handjob between pals?”

Strange muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said, a ‘handjob’ will not suffice,” Strange repeated, sounding utterly resigned. “There must be a mingling of body fluids and a more... intimate connection.”

“Oh,” Peter said. And then, “ _Oh_. Hey, man, I don’t want to doubt your skills or anything, but I left my lube in my other jacket, so--”

Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and looked utterly done. “Oral will suffice,” he sighed.

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Peter agreed. The rune on the portal flared, and Peter swayed on his feet. “Woah. Uh, I don’t want to tell you your business, but I think it’s getting impatient.”

Strange looked at the rune and got a pinched look. “Indeed. You’d better...” He waved at Peter’s pants, then closed his eyes and mumbled under his breath in something that wasn’t English.

“Hey, you don’t need the mystical condom or whatever that is,” Peter said, fumbling to get his pants open.

“That was not a spell,” Strange said, dropping to his knees with surprising grace. “I was merely reminding myself that I have done far stranger and more unpleasant things in the name of learning.” He eyed Peter’s groin dubiously. “You’re not even hard!”

“Well, I’m sorry!” Peter said defensively. “It’s a little hard to get in the mood, what with having my life force sucked out of me by some mystical artifact and having less than an hour to live unless some guy who hates my guts blows me!”

Strange tipped his head to look up at Peter sideways. “...I don’t hate you,” he said after a moment. “I barely _know_ you.”

“Well, okay, we can-- My favorite color is red. I like all kinds of music, but especially 80s pop. And my favorite movie is _Flashdance_.”

“Well, _now_ I hate you,” Strange said, but there was a curve to his mouth that said he was teasing, and Peter couldn’t help but laugh. Strange smile more widely at that, and hey, when he was smiling, he didn’t look so mysterious and ominous. Okay, he had a sense of humor, Peter could work with that.

“Put your hand on the rune,” Strange said. “The one you already touched. For the love of Fate, do _not_ touch any of the others.”

Peter hesitated, then did as he was told. Strange was the magical expert here, after all. “Like this? Is this okay?”

“Fine,” Strange said. “I just figured you might need something to lean on, and I didn’t want you to accidentally activate the rune that demands blood sacrifice.”

Peter couldn’t tell if he was still teasing. He was about to ask, but then Strange took him in, all at once, and-- “Oh...”

Strange obviously hadn’t done this a lot, but he had a fairly talented tongue. All that mystical mumbo jumbo made for a fairly limber mouth, Peter guessed. It wasn’t long before Peter was fully hard, and actually needing the support of the portal, so whether it had been teasing or not, Peter was grateful to have it.

Strange had one hand wrapped around the base of Peter’s cock, controlling the depth, and the other on Peter’s hip -- for balance, or maybe something to do with that _intimate connection_ he’d mentioned, and oh god, the things he was doing with his mouth now were probably illegal in at least three sectors. _Fast learner, right_.

It wasn’t long before Peter felt his balls draw up tight. “Oh, damn, gonna--”

Peter could practically feel Strange rolling his eyes. _Obviously, that’s the whole point_. But Peter had spent a year or so chasing Gamora, and Strange’s eye-rolling had nothing on hers, so that didn’t set things back at all.

Strange waited for Peter to finish before he pulled off. Peter leaned even harder on the portal, panting. Strange rolled his jaw a little, then pointedly pulled Peter’s hand off the portal before spitting his mouthful onto the runes.

“Really? Right in front of me? I mean, I get it, not everyone swallows, but you could’ve at least--”

“Shut up, Quill,” Strange grated. “It’s necessary to close the siphon.”

For that matter, Peter was feeling less dizzy already. He looked at the runes, which were slowly fading. “Oh. All right, I’ll give you extenuating circumstances, this time.”

Strange wiped his mouth on his sleeve, utterly lacking the dignity that a Sorcerer Supreme probably ought to have. Even the cloak looked indignant about it. Peter tried not to think too hard about that. “This time?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “Do you imagine there will be another?”

“Well, obviously,” Peter said, zipping up his pants. “Everyone wants a piece of the Starlord.”

 


	7. Square Peg [Bucky/Natasha - Anal Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha wants to try something new. Bucky's not so sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Anal Sex, Pegging, this Bucky is Very Straight

“Oh, hell no,” Bucky said when he walked into Natasha’s bedroom that night and saw what she was wearing. “No.”

“You’ll like it, I promise,” she told him, smiling as she tightened the strap on the harness she was wearing. “I’ll be gentle.”

Bucky and Natasha had a lot of sex. Very little of it could be in any way classified as _gentle_. They both liked it rough and hard and fast, and Bucky was suddenly more disturbed by that offer than the sight of her wearing a dildo harness. “No, you won’t,” he challenged.

“No, I really won’t,” she agreed, and showed her teeth again. “You’ll still like it. Come to bed, soldier.”

It was true that Bucky had liked all the outrageous things Natasha had sprung on him in the bedroom. He wondered sometimes if modern guys already knew all this stuff, or if it was just a facet of dating Natasha -- not that it mattered. When Natasha came at him wearing _that_ smile, Bucky just gave himself up to whatever she had in mind. It had always worked out well for them both.

Still, this was-- Well, this was making him a little nervous, Bucky had to admit.

She patted the bed in front of her. “On your knees, handsome,” she said. “Got to prep you first.”

Bucky’s stomach twisted, but -- it was Natasha. She wouldn’t hurt him. Not in any way he didn’t like.

Still, he couldn’t suppress a flinch when the lube bottle cap clicked open. “Relax,” Natasha told him. Easy for _her_ to say; she was on the other side of this equation.

She’d thoughtfully warmed the lube, though, so that was worth a little trust. She rubbed it around his hole, and spread it down toward his balls, nudging gently at his perineum, which sent a fluttery shiver through him.

She did that for a while, just spreading the lube around, not even pressing in when she went around his hole. This wasn’t so bad. Almost hypnotic. Soothing. It was some time before he realized he was rocking with her touch, pushing back into it.

“There you go,” she murmured, and slipped a finger into him. Not far, maybe to the first knuckle, but it felt... weird. Before Bucky could complain, though, she pulled it back out.

And then in again. And out, thrusting with her finger, sliding (he thought) a little further in each time. He wasn’t entirely sure about that until suddenly her whole hand was curled against his ass, her finger twisting inside him until he gasped.

“Doing okay?” she asked innocently.

“Fine,” he snarked. “Just peachy.”

“Great!” she said. She pulled her finger out and twisted back in with a second.

Bucky bit back a curse, and he could practically _feel_ her smirking. “So much for taking it easy on me.”

“I distinctly remember not promising that,” Nat said. She did... something with her fingers that made Bucky’s ass _ache_ and _burn_ , and he was on the verge of telling her to knock it off, he _really_ did not want this-- but behind the burn was a very different kind of heat. The kind that made his toes curl and his breath catch.

“Oh, fu-- What did you do?” he whined. “Do it again!”

“So demanding,” Natasha chided, but she did it again. This time the burn was less and the other sensation distinctly _more_ , pooling low in his belly.

Twice more, and then she stretched him, a sharp jolt in the middle of the burn, but by that point he was turned on enough that it just felt like the comfortable stretch of a muscle, a pleasant pulling sensation.

Then her fingers _curled_ and-- “Oh, _fuck_ ,” he gasped. “Natasha!”

“Say hello to Mr. Prostate,” she chirped.

“Oh my god, you are such a--” She did it again, and he forgot what he was going to call her at the way the sensation bounced through him.

She thrust her fingers into him again, hard, and he was so blissed out that all he could do was push back against her, desperate for more. Again, and again, until he was breathless and felt half-limp.

“I think you’re just about ready,” Natasha purred. The lube cap clicked open again, but Bucky barely registered it. More lube in his hole, then, not warmed this time, but he didn’t mind so much. The cool gel felt nice against his overheated skin.

Then there was something against his hole, broad and heavy and insistent. “Shit, that’s big,” he cursed, and Natasha put a hand on his lower back, stroking his skin with her thumb, soothing. It was an infuriating, patronizing gesture, and he was going to tell her so as soon as it stopped feeling so _good_.

The dildo slid into him, and it was both maddeningly slow and entirely too fast, drowning him in stretching, aching burn, filling him up and pushing the breath from his lungs. He panted and tried to relax, but his body was at war with itself, wanting to both push into it and pull away. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasped. “I can’t do it.”

“Just give it a minute,” she said, rubbing at his back again. “Let your body adjust.”

She bottomed out, and he was oddly soothed by the feel of her hips against his. The burn was fading but the ache flared sharper as his muscles contracted around the thing. He tried to focus on relaxing, but it was hard. Sweat prickled his skin.

And then all at once, his body gave up the fight and relaxed, and it felt... good. Comforting, almost, the way it filled him. “ _Oh_.”

“There it is,” Natasha said happily. “I’m going to fuck you now.”

Bucky thought he was ready for that, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t ready for the startling _emptiness_ as she slid out, or for the rough drag against his inner walls when she pushed back in. He especially wasn’t ready for the way it made him _feel_ , like some cherished thing to be used and guarded and kept safe.

A crackle of lust went through him at the thought, and he shoved back into Natasha’s hips, seeking more contact.

“Good,” she said warmly, and rewarded him with another hard thrust. “Put your arms down, and curve your spine a little,” she said, tracing her fingers along the spot she meant.

It wasn’t easy -- his spine didn’t want to curve that way -- but when she thrust again, the dildo scraped past his prostate and knocked all the breath out of him. “Oh god,” he groaned. “Again!”

She obliged, and then did it again, setting a hard, pounding rhythm, and all Bucky could do was hold on and sink into the sensation. His cock was hard and leaking, bobbing against his belly with every thrust, and it was somehow both embarrassing and unbelievably hot.

Natasha’s hands were at his hips, fingers sinking in hard enough to bruise. “Touch yourself,” she demanded. Bucky curled his hand around his dick, breath coming faster and harsher at the shiver of sensation. Natasha dug in her fingers harder. “Go on,” she panted, “I want to see you come on my cock.”

That jolted a groan of him, and then he was jerking himself in time with her thrusts. Lust coiled in his balls, building like a river behind a dam. “Natalia,” he begged, and then he was coming, seed spilling over his hand and spurting up to mark his chest.

He collapsed, boneless. Natasha slowed and stopped, pulling out of him carefully. “I told you you’d like it,” she said, insufferably smug.

God, she was a brat, and Bucky loved her. He flopped over onto his side and pulled her down next to him. She landed in the wet spot he’d left, and he laughed until she smacked his arm. “Give me a minute to recover, and then I’ll show you something that _you_ will like,” he promised.


	8. The Price of Penance [Clint/Wanda - spanking & orgasm denial]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda knows what she deserves, and she knows Clint will give it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship: Clint/Wanda  
> Tags: Spanking, OTK, Punishment, Orgasm Denial

The instant Clint was freed from his cell, he went to Wanda’s. The collar that suppressed her powers was easy to break with his bare hands, but she didn’t recover immediately. Clint wasn’t sure if it was because it would take time to regenerate her power, or because so long wearing the thing had broken her. Either way, they didn’t have time to figure it out. He picked her up and carried her, following Steve and Sam and leaving Lang to bring up the rear.

By the time they got to the safehouse, she seemed physically recovered, but still subdued. She barely ate, and didn’t participate in the conversation at all.

When everyone else went to bed, Clint went to her room instead of his. “Are you okay? I mean...”

She let him in with a shrug. “I should have stayed at the compound,” she said. “Stark was... arrogant and high-handed, but he was trying to protect me. I should have at least talked to him.”

“He was being a dick,” Clint said loyally, but he’d had his own long nights in the Raft to consider what they’d been fighting for, and what their former friends might have been thinking.

Wanda wrung her hands. “I keep making wrong choices,” she said, a thread of despair in her tone. “I walked unprepared into battle and let my power slip away from me, I scorned Stark’s advice without even listening, I escalated our fight with them from neutralization to something far more dangerous.” A tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. “I could have killed Natasha.”

“She’s harder to kill than you think,” Clint said. “And I’m sure she’s forgiven you.”

“I cannot forgive _myself_ ,” she cried. “The Raft was built to hold me and my kind, but because of your association with me, you and Sam and Scott wound up there beside me.”

Clint took her hands before she could chafe them. “What can I do?”

“Punish me,” she gasped, leaning into him.

“The Raft wasn’t enough?” Clint asked, halfway to appalled.

“What they did at the Raft was never about penance and forgiveness,” Wanda said hotly. “It was about containment, about control. But you... You would _help me_.”

He hesitated, and she turned liquid eyes on him. “Clint, please,” she begged. “I trust no one else as I trust you. Please.”

“No powers,” he said. “Not even if you change your mind. You know what you deserve. If I cross that line, use your words.”

She shivered and nodded. “I know what I deserve,” she agreed. “Will you give it to me?”

For some reason, that chased away the last of Clint’s reservations. “Over my knee, like the child you are,” he said.

“I am not a child,” she said, but it was weak, and a blush colored her features.

“You are,” Clint said, “until you convince me otherwise.” He caught her arm and tugged. He didn’t put much force into it, but she went where he directed anyway, bending over his lap until she was right where he wanted her: stomach across his legs, her ass bent over the side, her small breasts pressing against his leg on the other side.

He lifted her dress and tugged at her leggings and underwear until they had just bared her behind and the tops of her thighs, the elastic binding her legs together.

“Oh,” she protested. “Not even--”

Clint brought his hand down for the first time, a firm _smack_ against her pale skin, and whatever she had been about to say disappeared into a startled yelp.

He struck several more times, watching her skin change to pink. No longer surprised, she didn’t cry out at those, but he could hear the catch in her breath with each. “This is what bad girls get,” he told her, “when they don’t consider the consequences of their actions.”

He punctuated that with a slightly harder smack, and her breath stuttered out on a sob.

“Isn’t it?” he prodded.

“Yes,” she gasped.

_Smack!_ “You’ve earned this,” he said. “Haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” _Smack!_

“I-- I earned this,” she stammered. “I deserve it.”

“Damn right you do,” Clint grunted. He worked her over, then, watching the color deepen and spread, feeling her involuntary flinches and squirming. He ventured down to the sensitive crease of her thigh when it seemed like she was beginning to relax into it; altered the speed and strength of the strokes to keep her from anticipating the rhythm. To keep her fully in the moment.

He didn’t stop when the dam broke and she began to cry. He did pause when she stopped wriggling and went limp, but only to give her a break just long enough to make her register the heat and soreness, and then he resumed, knowing each blow would land with twice the sting now.

He wasn’t oblivious to the _other_ effect the spanking was having on her, either -- the smell of her arousal was hard to miss, as was some of her more frantic writhing. But he chose to ignore it, for now.

When red turned into purple and began to spread into bruises, he paused again. He slid a finger along the curve of her ass and pressed gently into the bruise, making her shake and sob again. “Are you going to act with more caution now?” he asked.

Wanda sniffled, breath hitching, but said, “It seems unlikely.”

Clint laughed. He couldn’t help it; it came out before he could suppress it. He’d spanked her raw, the little spitfire, but she was still full of spirit.

He traced lightly along her crack, following the line until he found her inner folds, so wet that even without exerting pressure, his fingers sinking into her as if she was pulling him in. Her breath caught. “Clint...”

“Maybe you need a different sort of punishment,” he suggested. He thrust into her with two fingers, fucking her on them and knowing it wasn’t enough to truly satisfy, even with her thighs bound close together by her clothes. When her ass lifted, wordlessly, begging for more, he withdrew and spanked her again, three sharp smacks that didn’t at all cover the way her groan of disappointment turned into a needy moan.

He thrust into her again, hard and fast, until he could feel her whole body trembling, and pulled away again. This time he spanked her low, as close to that hot, desperate hole, until she screamed. “Please,” she begged.

“Now you sound a little closer to it,” Clint observed. “But I think we’d better make sure.”

“Oh, god,” she whimpered, but she didn’t ask him to stop.

He repeated the cycle a few times, teasing her right up to the edge and not letting her fall over, until she was sobbing again, this time from desperate need, her words a constant stream of pleading and begging.

“Are you going to be good, now?” he finally asked. His hand ached, and she wanted -- she _craved_ \-- more punishment than he could give her in a single evening.

“ _Clint_ ,” she begged. “ _Please_. I’ll do anything.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said. He tugged her panties and tights back up, ignoring her cries as they dug into her swollen and sopping crack, as they dragged roughly over her abused behind. “You’re going to come sleep on my bed tonight, so I can make sure you don’t touch yourself, and in the morning, we’ll start over again.”

She sobbed and whimpered, but her eyes looked up at him in gratitude.


	9. Oh Say Can You See [Bucky/Steve/Sam - Voyeurism]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Barnes need to work out that tension. Sam didn’t count on them including him in their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of [Is This the Real Life?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236/chapters/28419224)
> 
> Chapter Tags: Voyeurism, Proposition via Prank, Oral Sex, Masturbation

Sam rolled his eyes and hoped that the two lunkheads back at the motel would sort themselves out by the time he got back with food. The way they’d been just... looking at each other, there was some serious tension to work out there, preferably before they met up with Hawkeye and the Ant Dude.

Sam had done his best to bleed off some of that tension by bickering with Barnes. That was pretty funny, really; you could tell Barnes had grown up as one of what Sam’s ma referred to as “a whole passel” of kids. He didn’t waste energy getting mad, but boy, did he know how to get even.

Sam kind of loved it.

Case in point: when Sam got to the bodega -- or whatever you called a bodega when you were in Germany -- and pulled the Euros out of his pocket to pay for the assortment of food he’d grabbed, a comms earbud rolled out onto the counter.

He knew he hadn’t put an earbud in his pocket. Despite them having been made to withstand the kind of abuse that Avengers put their gear through, they looked way too fragile for Sam to just stuff one in his jeans like that. When he wasn’t wearing his buds, he keep them in a shirt pocket, or an old hearing aid case. So Sam hadn’t put it there.

And Steve was shit at stealth.

Which meant Barnes had put it there. Which meant it was some kind of prank.

Sam looked at the numbers on the register and peeled off Euro bills, and looked at the comm. He could just put it back in his pocket and pretend ignorance.

But Barnes’ pranks tended to be pretty hilarious, even when they were on you. So when Sam had the bags of food looped over his arm and he’d walked back out into the street, he gamely tucked the comm into his ear and turned it on.

“--evie-doll, tell me what Sam’s doin’ with his fingers in your mouth.”

What? What the _what_?

“He, he’s fucking my mouth with them.” Steve. And again: _What?_

It wasn’t like Sam hadn’t considered it. Steve was one fine-looking white boy, and Sam was willing to bet he had the kind of stamina that kept a guy warm at night. But he’d been under the impression that Steve and Barnes had a thing going.

Barnes husked, “What’m I doin’, while he’s got his fingers in your mouth?”

“Sucking me,” Steve said. “Still. Again. Whatever. Just... Your mouth, Bucky, god...”

Oh, _sweet Jesus on a pony_.

You’d think by now that Sam would’ve gotten over the weird prejudice thing where you assumed that guys born in the 40s were prudes who only had straight sex in the dark in the missionary position. You’d think that. But here they were, talking dirty in Sam’s ear -- because Barnes _planned it that way_ , the little shit -- about having Sam in on a threesome, and Sam was a little thrown, okay? That was not how he’d expected this rest stop to go.

Steve made a sound, a thick and dirty groan that didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination. “Then what, Stevie?” Barnes said, half-muffled. “What’s he gonna do?”

“Put his cock in my mouth,” Steve gasped, his breath puffing into Sam’s ear like some kind of porno. “Fuck my mouth and my throat, make me gag--”

_Mother of god_. Sam was going to die of embarrassment or maybe excessive arousal right here on the fucking street.

“Bet he tastes good, Bucky, so good, salt and skin, and he’ll be so thick and heavy.” Steve shuddered with anticipation, or maybe because of what Bucky was doing with his tongue. “He can fuck my throat, an’-- And when he’s close, he’ll pull out and let come all over me, on my face and chest.”

“ _Jesus_.” Sam hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but how the hell was he supposed to stay quiet through all _that?_

“Come on back whenever you’re ready,” Barnes said, and was he _talking to Sam now?_ “I got him all warmed up.”

Yes. Yes, he was. He was telling Sam to-- what? Come back to the motel and _take a turn fucking Captain America?_

What even was Sam’s life.

Sam picked up his pace. In his ear, Steve was squawking about Barnes’ little trick, and then very different noises as Barnes laid down what sounded like some very convincing arguments.

The sort of arguments that involved the sound of sloppy sucking and heavy breathing and some utterly _filthy_ talk.

Sam broke into a jog.

The motel wasn’t that far away. On the trip out, Sam had been trying to figure out how to make his walk back a little longer, to give them time and space. Apparently, they didn’t _want_ time and space. They wanted _Sam_. Or at least Steve did, and Barnes certainly didn’t seem to object, since he’d gone to all the trouble of setting it up.

So when he got back to their room, he didn’t bother to knock. He just opened the door and stepped right in, peeling the comm back out of his ear and tossing it on the table. At least he think he tossed it on the table. He wasn’t looking when he did it, because there was no way he was peeling his eyes off the sight in front of him anytime soon.

Steve was sitting on the end of the bed, shirt off and pants open, cock out. He was leaning back on his elbows, head thrown back and eyes closed. Barnes was kneeling in front of him, licking at his dick like a goddamned lollypop, metal hand wrapped around the base to steady it.

“‘Bout time you got here,” Steve moaned. “Come tell ‘im t’stop teasin’ me.”

Oh, lord, he’d busted out the Brooklyn. “I dunno,” said Sam, because he could be smooth out loud even when the inside of his brain sounded like a gibbering fool. “I got a pretty good view, right here.”

“Y’hear that, Stevie,” Barnes purred. “The guy wants a show. Gonna make it pretty for ‘im, Stevie?” He licked all around the head of Steve’s cock, sucking at the foreskin and stretching it a little, until Steve bucked and groaned.

“Sam,” Steve tried.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam said. He dropped the groceries and leaned against the door, hands behind his back. Damn if he wasn’t already hard and well on his way from soft pine to good teak. “I have it on good authority that the serum means you’re good for at least a couple rounds. I’mma stand right here and watch round one.”

“Bastard,” Steve grated. He lifted an arm to pinch at his own nipples, holy _shit_.

Sam was going to be more of a bastard from now on, if that’s the kind of reaction it got him.

“That’s about right,” Bucky said. “Guess it’s up to me. Like usual.”

“Fuck you,” Steve hissed, trying to squirm farther down the bed, stymied by Bucky’s arm.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said. “Right now, I gotta job to do.” He swallowed Steve’s cock like he was built for it, practically unhinging his jaw to take it all in, right down to the hilt. Sam could even see his throat bulging with it, and damned if that wasn’t the sexiest thing Sam had seen in a long damn time.

Just as sexy was the noise Steve made, a vibration that sizzled through the space between them and jolted the length of Sam’s cock. Sam’s jeans were _way_ too tight now, so he opened them up for some relief.

“Yeah,” Steve groaned. “Get it out and touch yourself,” he said. His eyelids were slitted, but that didn’t lessen the impact of their focus on Sam. “Let me see you. Oh, fuck, Bucky, I was right, it’s _gorgeous_. I can’t wait to have it in my mouth.”

Barnes hummed around Steve’s cock and Steve groaned and shuddered, a flush beginning to spread down his chest, making those pink nipples stand out.

A little spurt of precome beaded at the tip of his cock. He rolled his hand over it, spreading it around a little. “You wanna get your mouth on me,” Sam said, “you’d best get on with it, before I just jerk it over here, watching.” He suited action to the threat, dragging his hand down and back up, nice and slow.

Barnes hummed again and Steve made a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut and hips arching off the bed. And Barnes just _took it_ , sweet Jesus, though Steve’s come was leaking out of his lips to drip down his chin. Sam’s cock jumped at the sight.

Barnes pulled off, licking his lips and wiping his face with his arm. “Get over here,” he said, and his voice was _wrecked_ , rough and dark and sexy as fuck. “We’re tired of waiting.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that. Looked like they were _all_ going to work off some tension.

 


	10. Hot or Not [Bucky/Tony - Wall Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony doesn’t think it’s hot when Bucky manhandles him. Bucky’s going to show him otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Wall Sex, Fingering, Manhandling

They were kissing. They were making out, hot and heavy, Bucky’s teeth and Tony’s tongue and hands, flesh and metal, wandering everywhere. Buttons popped and rolled, zippers dragged hastily, a shirt torn with the desperate _need_ to get underneath, to skin, to the heat, to the pounding blood and rasping breath.

“Oh, god, oh _god_ ,” Tony groaned as Bucky’s hand slid into his boxers to cup his cock.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, and he wrapped his free arm around Tony’s back, hauling Tony into his lap. He leaned in for another kiss, and--

Tony leaned back, frowning.

“What?”

“I am _not_ ,” Tony said sternly, “some delicate little miss who weighs a buck-ten sopping wet that you can just throw around at your whim.”

Bucky blinked. “I know that.” Tony was anything but delicate, and muscled enough to weigh rather more than he looked in his dapper business suits.

“So what’s this?” Tony waved at the way he was now straddling Bucky’s lap. “The manhandling is not cute, Barnes.”

“Not cute,” Bucky repeated, half on autopilot, because he _really_ wanted to get back to the kissing and the fondling and the rest of it. “I wasn’t thinkin’ it was cute, doll.”

“No? What were you thinking, then?” Tony challenged.

“I was thinkin’,” Bucky said, “that it was _hot as hell_.” He tucked both arms under Tony’s ass and _lifted_ , standing up easily. Tony squawked and flailed a little, but Bucky had a firm hold. “I was thinkin’ it might be fun t’ just...” He walked over to the wall and pushed Tony up against it, using the metal arm to hold him in place while his human hand dragged down Tony’s front, seeking his cock again.

Tony grunted and knocked his head back against the wall in an attempt to arch into the touch. “Not hot,” he rasped. “Try harder.”

Oh. Oh, Bucky could try _harder_ , for sure. Bucky worked Tony’s shirt up until it was rucked under his armpits, and pinched and flicked at his nipples. Tony braced his back against the wall and arched again, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s hips. “Two hands,” he demanded.

Bucky grinned. “Your wish, darlin’.” He tucked his hands down the back of Tony’s pants and worked them down far enough to get Tony’s cock out. God, it was pretty, all pink and red and purple, like he wanted this, like he wanted _Bucky_ , here and now. “Still not hot?” Bucky teased, trailing a finger around Tony’s slit, smearing the precome around.

“Not hot,” Tony said, even if he was gasping it. “But getting warmer.”

Bucky curved his hand over the round globe of Tony’s ass. God, Tony had a great ass. It just begged to be touched. Held and squeezed and pinched--

“Ow!” Tony nearly jumped right out of Bucky’s grasp; Bucky had to put his arm around Tony’s waist to hold him steady.

“That’s a no-go, then?” That was too bad, but it wasn’t like there weren’t other things he could do with Tony’s ass. His fingers sought the heat of Tony’s crack and went in search of them.

“Pinching is definitely a no--ohhhhh,” Tony stammered as Bucky found his hole and started circling it, tugging gently at the rim. “Oh god. I don’t have any lube handy.”

“Don’t worry, doll,” Bucky said, not letting up at all. “I ain’t gonna fuck you right now. I’m just gonna finger you a little bit. You think you can get off like that, baby?”

Tony whined and twisted as if he were trying to get free, but he didn’t drop his legs at all.

“I bet you can,” Bucky said, lowering his voice to a soft growl.  He wriggled in a little deeper, careful but not _too_ careful. “I bet your hole’s just begging to be stuffed full. I bet if I _did_ have some lube, I could throw your legs up over my shoulders here and just fuck you senseless right here on this wall.” Bucky hooked his finger, searching, until Tony gasped and twitched, precome leaking. “What d’ya say, doll, hmm? Would you like that?”

“Ohgod,” Tony groaned. “Yes.”

Bucky curled his other hand around Tony’s cock, smearing all that gorgeous precome around, getting it nice and slick. “Next time,” he promised. “Next time I’m gonna finger you wide open and sit you on my dick, and I’m gonna fuck you until the only thing you can say is my name.”

“Bucky,” Tony breathed, hips juddering back and forth, trying to simultaneously fuck up into Bucky’s fist and fuck back onto Bucky’s hand. Bucky barely had to do anything at all aside from keeping Tony balanced against the wall and keep twitching that finger against Tony’s prostate, keep gently squeezing his hand around Tony’s cock.

Tony came with a harsh cry, legs squeezing tight around Bucky’s waist as he arched again, spattering come on his belly and Bucky’s hand.

Then he let go, all at once, and Bucky had to scramble to catch him before he landed on the floor in a heap. “Jesus, baby,” he complained, but he really didn’t mind. Tony looked all sweet and blissed-out, and he let Bucky arrange him into a princess carry without so much as a squawk of offense. “I’m gonna get you all cleaned up and put you to bed now, okay, doll?”

“Mm,” Tony mumbled. “Gonna stick around?”

“Sure, darlin’, if you want me to.”

Tony grinned and tucked his face up against Bucky’s neck. “Hot.”


	11. In Case You're Lonely [Steve/Tony - Sex Toy: Fleshlight]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve misses Tony when he’s gone, but Tony’s made sure Steve will miss one part of him a little bit less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Sex Toys, Fleshlight, Masturbation

The Tower was too quiet. Everyone else was asleep, or away. Steve walked the halls slowly, no particular destination in mind, fingers trailing along the walls. He missed Tony.

They had only been together for a couple of months, but Steve was already addicted: to the way Tony laughed; to his sweet, shy smile; to the feel of Tony’s skin under Steve’s hands and the heat of his kiss. To that lightning-fast brain and wide-open heart. There was nothing about Tony that Steve didn’t love.

Okay, maybe being alone for the first time in almost three months had made Steve a little maudlin and melodramatic, because there were probably things that Steve didn’t care for. He just missed Tony too much to think of them right now. He hoped this business trip would be done soon.

Steve looked up, startled, and found himself at the door to Tony’s suite.

He should... he should probably turn around and go somewhere else. It would be rude to go into Tony’s rooms without Tony here with him, wouldn’t it?

Steve didn’t walk away. He lifted his hand, hesitated. If Tony didn’t want him in here, then JARVIS wouldn’t let him in, right? Steve laid his hand over the scanner.

It flashed green, and the door opened.

“Welcome, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said. “Mr. Stark asked me to tell you, if you made your way here, that he left a gift for you in the bedroom.”

That was sweet, and just like Tony. He gave so many gifts, and not just to Steve, but to the whole team. On the other hand, “Why didn’t he just give it to me?”

“I believe you will find that question answered when you have seen it,” JARVIS said.

_Oh_. It was something... sexual, or at least naughty, probably. Something that Steve wouldn’t want the rest of the team to see.

That just made Steve miss Tony all the more. Sexy presents were best shared. Still, it couldn’t hurt to see what it was. He made his way to the bedroom, to find a wrapped package on the bed. (Red paper with a gold ribbon, because it was Tony, after all.) The tag on it simply read, _In case you’re lonely..._

Steve unwrapped slowly, savoring the anticipation. The box was plain and unmarked, and when Steve unfolded the flap, he saw the end of what looked like a sturdy, industrial-strength flashlight. Which was an odd gift for Tony to give him, especially given the implications that it was for the bedroom.

He pulled it from the box and turned it to look at the light end, and nearly dropped it in surprise.

There was no light. Instead, that end of the “flashlight” was a lurid pink shaped like... well, shaped like an asshole.

“Tony, what the hell.” Steve gingerly poked at the pink, and it shifted under his finger just like skin.

He pulled back, startled, then poked at it again. The hole gaped a little, invitingly.

Steve felt heat climbing up his neck and his cheeks. Surely, this wasn’t for... Well. It was from Tony, after all.

Experimentally, Steve pushed a finger into the hole. It felt smooth and tight, but giving, like it had already been stretched out. His cock twitched, suddenly interested, and the blush climbed a little higher up Steve’s face, and spread downward over his chest until his nipples sparked with the heat.

The thing lacked Tony’s encompassing warmth, but the sensation was otherwise almost exactly right. Steve thrust his finger in and out a few times, almost without thinking about it, considering.

Tony had left it for him. To use while Tony was gone. Tony might even feel hurt if Steve didn’t use the thing.

Biting his lip, Steve opened his pants and shoved them down. His dick had absolutely no compunction against trying the toy, as it sprang right up. Steve found the lube -- the thing was soft and smooth, but a little lube always made things better, he’d found, even doing for himself.

He pushed into the toy slowly, the same way he’d press into Tony’s body, careful not to to cause damage, not to hurt. The toy opened for him readily, squeezing his cock almost perfectly.

Using the toy was mechanically similar to doing for himself, as it turned out -- his hand curled around the “flashlight” handle and he pulled it up and pushed it down in the same rhythm. But the sensation was _so close_ to actually being sheathed in Tony’s body, it made Steve’s toes curl.

He laid back on the bed and turned his face into Tony’s pillow, smelling Tony on it, and jacked the thing up and down, gasping at the way it felt. His free hand pushed up under his shirt to pinch his nipples, just the way Tony liked to do, and it wasn’t-- it wasn’t the same as _having_ Tony, it wasn’t like that at all. But it was blood flowing in his body, flushing and warming him, and it was seeing Tony behind his eyelids every time they fluttered shut, and it was so easy to imagine -- to _remember_ \-- Tony there, touching Steve, riding him, teasing him with filthysweet talk.

Steve’s breath came faster, and it felt like his whole body was lighting up with heat and a faint crackle of electricity, a tingle that zinged from nerve to nerve, impossible to trace and just as impossible to ignore.

His hips were rising to meet the downward stroke of his hand, pushing him deeper into the soft cushion of the toy, straining to reach some tangible goal. Steve planted his feet and drove up into it with abandon, threw his head back and pinched his nipple _hard_ , twisting--

The world dissolved into white and fire and the ache of his balls emptying, shooting wave after wave of come. His hips jerked helplessly, involuntary spasms that made him whimper as his oversensitive cock dragged through the toy’s grip, milking even more from him.

At last, he pulled it away and dropped it to the bed beside him, panting for breath.

He should get up, clean off the toy and himself and probably the bed as well, but the pillows smelled like Tony and the bed was warm and Steve hadn’t been sleeping well, without Tony in his arms. Cleanup could wait until he’d had a nap, and then... then he’d call Tony to say thank you for his present.  
  


 


	12. Science ABrOs [Bruce/Tony - ABO Dynamics]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hadn’t realized that Bruce was an omega, but when he finds out that Bruce is planning to spend a heat alone, Tony is there to help, Hulk or no Hulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Heat, Knotting

Bruce was still skittish when he moved into the Tower after the Battle of New York, as if he hadn’t already proven his worth to the world a thousand times over.

Tony didn’t find out why until Bruce sidled into the workshop one afternoon and requested some specialized air filters. Tony told JARVIS to take care of the order, and followed up by asking Bruce what he wanted with pheromone cleansers. “I didn’t know you did any work in that area,” he said.

Bruce gave him a particularly hard look. “I don’t. I need them for-- My heat’s due soon.”

That brought Tony stumbling to a halt. “You’re an O? Seriously?”

Bruce shrank, and Tony immediately wanted to kick himself. “I just meant that I didn’t realize!” Tony tried to explain. “I’m just surprised, as closely as we’ve been working... I thought you were a Beta!”

Bruce looked, if anything, even more miserable at that. “The other guy, he’s an Alpha,” he said, barely loud enough for Tony to hear. “It was part of the experiment. They sort of... cancel out. I smell... _taken_.”

Tony cautiously sniffed the air -- it was rude, but it was Tony, so all in all, no one was surprised. And Bruce was right; he actually smelled more like a claimed Omega than a Beta. Tony had just been more interested in the contents of Bruce’s brain than those of his pants, so he hadn’t really thought to analyze it closely. “Huh. Does that help with the discomfort?”

“Not really,” Bruce admitted. “But the other guy’s pretty protective. He doesn’t like to let other Alphas near me, not when I’m that vulnerable. I’ve learned to cope.”

“Bruce,” Tony protested, “that’s not healthy. I mean, I’m the _king_ of unhealthy life decisions, but if it’s not what you _want_... The Hulk likes me. I could give you a hand. No strings attached.”

“I... I don’t think that’s wise.”

“Have you even _met_ me?” Tony scoffed. “Let me at least try. It’d get you back on your feet that much faster if it works.”

“And if it doesn’t,” Bruce said, “you’ll be paste.”

“He’s not going to hurt me,” Tony said confidently.

“Tony,” Bruce started.

“You’re not saying anything that sounds like _I don’t want that_ ,” Tony pointed out. “I”m not hearing anything like a no, here. All I’m hearing are excuses. Tell me you don’t want it, or let me at least try.”

Bruce hesitated, swaying back and forth on his feet. He was going to cave; Tony had won.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised.

***

The air filters were top-grade, the finest that could be found, but as soon as Tony was admitted to Bruce’s suite, the scent nearly knocked him over. Either Bruce had been lying about when his heat had started, or Bruce was prone to particularly strong heats.

Either way, it was a scent that went straight to Tony’s hindbrain and bayed like a hunting hound. “Bruce,” he gasped. “How the hell have you been doing this _alone_?”

Bruce paused in his pacing. He was already stripped down to skin and glistening with sweat; he’d cranked the air conditioning as high as it would go. “It’s not easy,” he admitted. He came straight to Tony and pushed his face in against Tony’s neck, breathing deep. “Oh, god.”

“That’s it, get a good lungful,” Tony encouraged him. Alpha pheromones would, after a while, inhibit the production of Bruce’s siren scent. Bruce grunted. “You okay?”

Bruce looked up at him, and his eyes were tinged with green. Shit. Okay. Okay, Tony could do this. “It’s just me,” he said. “I’m here to help, you know that.”

Bruce’s skin rippled with color, and his muscles bulged. The transformation had never been so fast. One second, Bruce was shivering against Tony’s chest, and the next, the Hulk was looming.

“Hey, big guy,” Tony said. “You’re just making it worse for Bruce right now, you know that?”

“Puny Banner,” Hulk growled. His eyes narrowed. “Mine.”

“Yeah, Bruce is yours,” Tony agreed readily. “I’m not moving in. I just want to help out. He’s hurting.”

“Tinman help Banner?”

“That’s the plan, big guy.” Tony tried not to rush him; if the Hulk felt like Tony was trying to trick him, that wouldn’t end well. But the longer the Hulk was manifest, the more Alpha pheromones were in his system for Bruce’s body to neutralize when he came back, and the more vicious the heat would be.

“Itches,” Hulk reported irritably.

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Let Bruce back out, and we’ll take care of it.”

Hulk huffed and rumbled threateningly, but he took a step back and shook his head as if to clear it, and Bruce fell to his knees, gasping. “Tony-- You’re okay.”

“Sure,” Tony said easily. “The other guy’s a creampuff, really.” Tony hooked an arm around Bruce’s waist to help him up. “Come on, let’s go take care of you.”

Bruce curled into him, breathing him in again, not moving from that spot. Tony curled his fingers into Bruce’s hair and tugged gently. “Bruce. I’m not doing this here.”

Bruce backed off, shoulders hunching a little. “Yeah,” he panted, “okay, that’s... Come on.” He caught Tony’s wrist and all but dragged Tony toward the bedroom.

Tony followed without complaint. Bruce’s body had to be going into overload to dump Hulk’s hormones and replace them with Bruce’s. The transformation was exhausting on a normal day, Tony knew; it had to be overwhelming now.

Once in the bedroom, Tony dug in his heels a little, pulling Bruce to a halt. “Come here.” He pulled Bruce in and kissed him, tasting the sweet tang of an omega in heat, oddly overlaid with the bitter aftertaste of Alpha -- the Hulk’s leavings, no doubt.

Bruce melted into the kiss, pressing Tony back against the door in his eagerness, fumbling with Tony’s simple clothes in desperation. Tony let him lead, dragging the shirt off and shoving down the loose sweatpants. He was hard already, despite the brief encounter with the Hulk -- Bruce might fret, but Tony wasn’t afraid of the other guy. Not the way Bruce thought he should be.

Bruce groaned as his hips rolled against Tony’s, seeking relief and friction. Tony pulled him in by the hips and let his fingers wander down Bruce’s spine, tracing the curve of Bruce’s ass. Bruce whined and arched into the touch, wanton.

“Bed,” Tony told him, nudging gently until Bruce stepped back. “Go on, go spread yourself out for me.” He put as much Alpha weight into it as he could; the faster Bruce gave himself up to the moment, the easier everything would be.

There was lube waiting on the table; Tony slicked two fingers generously and worked them in. Heat had already made Bruce’s muscles slack and easy, but it never hurt to be sure, especially since Bruce was practically a monk and obviously hadn’t been laid in a long time. Tony worked him open carefully, scissoring his fingers and twisting until he found the little bump that made Bruce howl with sensation overload.

Then he worked that spot until Bruce was all but sobbing and limp, humping desperately at the bed and making incoherent sounds of lust. In full heat, he wouldn’t be able to come without a knot, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Hey, just relax, Brucie,” Tony crooned, pulling his fingers free to slick himself up. “I’m going to take such good care of you...” He lined up and had barely started to push when Bruce’s body shuddered and relaxed all at once, the greedy hole pulling him in.

“Tony,” Bruce pleaded. “Need it, please, need it _now_.”

“Okay,” Tony said, but he rocked out and then back in, feeling like each shallow thrust pulled him deeper than it was possible to be.

The noises Bruce made were obscene and beautiful, more animalistic and primal than the Hulk’s roar. Tony drove in again, seeking the angle that would pull even more out of him, the one that made his knot feel hot and swollen.

He raced toward his orgasm -- normally he’d enjoy drawing things out a bit, but Bruce had already been waiting, for whole _cycles_ , and it would be cruel to delay any longer than he had to. Maybe in the future, he’d take his time and try to make Bruce’s eyes cross with pleasure. But this was beyond that, into desperate relief.

He leaned in and licked at the back of Bruce’s neck, snuffling in the curve where the Omega scent was strongest, letting it drive him onward.

Bruce scrabbled at the sheets, driving furiously back into him, gasping with need. “Tony!” he howled, and that was all Tony could take. He drove as deeply into Bruce’s body as he could and came, his knot aching sweetly as it expanded.

“Oh _god_ \--” Bruce clenched around Tony and came hard, his whole body shuddering and shaking.

Tony waited until the tremors had passed and then rolled them into a more comfortable position to wait it out, curling around Bruce protectively. “How’s the big guy?” he asked.

“Settled, some,” Bruce said, still half panting. “I didn’t think he would.”

“Told you, he likes me. And I think the heat hormones were bothering him. I promised to help.”

“You did,” Bruce said. “I feel so much better. Stop looking so smug.”

“You can’t even see my face!”

“I can feel the smug radiating off you,” Bruce said. “Stop it and tell me what you’re going to do about the heatdump issue in the new gauntlets, as long as we’re stuck here for a while.”

“That’s why you’re my favorite, Brucie,” Tony said, affection swelling warm in his chest. “JARVIS, bring up the schematic for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [tisfan](archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan) for general cheering and the puntastic title.


	13. Double the Pleasure [Bucky/Steve/Tony - Double penetration]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of the three of them, Steve’s the adventurous one. But when he asks, Tony and Bucky are eager to give this a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Bucky/Steve/Tony  
> Chapter Tags: Threesome - M/M/M, Anal Sex, Double Penetration

“Lube,” Tony said firmly. “So. Much. Lube.”

“It’ll be fine, Tony,” Steve said. “I can take a lot.”

“Good, because this is going to be a lot,” Tony said. “On your knees, soldier; let’s get you prepped.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but got onto his hands and knees. This was Steve’s idea, because of course it was. The three of them had only been together for a little while, but already Tony had figured out that -- in pretty much everything, but particularly in bed -- Steve was the adventurous one, and that Bucky was game for everything but satisfied with anything. Tony fell somewhere in the middle, and it made him warm, when they looked to him for advice.

So this was Steve’s idea, but despite supersoldier healing, Tony intended to make sure they took all the precautions and did this right.

Tony must have paused too long, admiring the view and reflecting, because Bucky flicked his arm. “C’mon, let’s get this show on the road,” Bucky chided.

“You have a pressing engagement somewhere else, Buckaroo?” Tony wondered, but he lubed up his fingers and pressed two of them into Steve’s hole, because Steve liked being pushed, liked the burn of just _slightly_ too much. It was why they were doing this in the first place, what Steve had wanted.

Steve groaned and pushed back onto Tony’s fingers, trying to make him go faster, harder.

Tony pulled out, and Steve whined. “Nope,” Tony said. “We’re doing this at my speed or not at all.”

“You’re so damn _bossy_ ,” Bucky observed, grinning in that boyish way that made Tony’s stomach turn flipflops like he was a kid.

“You like it that way,” Tony shot back. He flashed Bucky a smirk and leaned in for a kiss, but quickly returned most of his attention to sliding his fingers back into Steve, feeling that tight, velvet heat around them.

“Sure,” agreed Bucky easily. “It’s just weird. I always thought you’d be a kitten in bed, until we started fucking. Still surprises me, every time.”

“Have you ever seen a kitten? They are literally the opposite of docile,” Tony pointed out. “The only thing farther down that scale would be a puppy.”

“Don’t mind me,” Steve mock-complained. “I’m just hanging out here, waiting for you two to stop bickering and pay some attention to me.”

Tony twisted his fingers and Steve let out a startled groan. “That enough attention for you, lambchop?”

“Never.”

Tony and Bucky exchanged a grin. Steve was probably being cranky because he was stuck in a position where he couldn’t see either of them very well. Steve liked to _watch_ them, both in bed and out of it. “Snowmuffin, you want to give him something to do with that mouth?”

“Every day, and twice on Sundays,” Bucky said. He squirmed around until he was in front of Steve. He twisted his hand into Steve’s hair and used it to lower Steve’s mouth onto his cock. “There, do something useful instead of bitching at Tony.”

Steve huffed through his nose, as if to say that bitching at Tony _was_ useful, and Tony laughed and smacked Steve’s rump with the hand that wasn’t covered in lube. Steve groaned a little and Bucky’s eyelids fluttered the way they did when Steve was sucking especially hard, the way Bucky liked it.

God, it was a beautiful sight, the two of them together. Steve wasn’t the only one who liked the watch. Peak of physical perfection, both of them smart and gorgeous and generous and _Tony’s_ , which was still enough to make his head spin with disbelief, that they wanted him the same way he wanted them.

Tony watched them for a moment, until Bucky looked up and raised an eyebrow at him with a knowing smile. Then he went back to stretching Steve out. Steve relaxed more easily when he had something to focus on, and by the time Bucky was coming down Steve’s throat, Tony was up to four fingers, pushing against Steve’s walls and tormenting his prostate.

“God, Tony, I’m _ready_ ,” Steve groaned, that delightful rasp in his voice from deep-throating that made Tony’s cock throb, just thinking about it.

“Yeah, I think you are,” Tony agreed. He pulled his fingers out and slid in just one thumb, stretching Steve out a little as Tony lined up his cock and pushed in. He barely had to push; once the head was in, Steve’s body all but pulled him in. It was hot and soft and fantastic, and Tony felt he could just sink into Steve and stay there forever.

He pulled out and pushed back in, reaching deeper than his fingers could, feeling the inner muscles tighten and relax around him. Tony fucked in and out a few times, slow and easy, until he felt those muscles go soft and pliant. “Oh, yeah, Steve, that’s perfect.” He grabbed Steve’s hips and adjusted his angle to drag across Steve’s prostate until Steve was gasping and panting under him. “You want to come help me out with the next bit, Buck?”

“You bet.” Bucky crawled down the bed to kneel beside Tony, and _that_ was hot as hell, Bucky crawling toward him with intent.

Bucky seemed to be just as rapt at the sight of Tony’s cock in Steve’s ass. “Oh, Stevie, that’s a pretty sight,” he said. “Let me just...” He crowded in close to Tony and trailed one finger down Steve’s crack, tracing around the rim where Tony and Steve were joined, teasing.

“Buck!” Steve gasped. “Please!”

“Aw, he’s eager,” Bucky said. He squeezed some lube onto his finger and pressed slowly, carefully, into Steve’s hole alongside Tony’s dick. It was almost uncomfortable, but Tony knew it would get better quickly. Tony thrust in slow, shallow movements, helping Bucky’s finger slide inward, urging Steve to relax more. “Come on, babydoll,” Bucky crooned, “know you can do this.”

Steve grunted, then opined, “Two would be better. More stretch but not as sharp.”

“Mm.” Bucky cocked his head at Tony. “What do you think, kitten?”

Tony rolled his eyes at the nickname, but nodded. He liked tormenting Steve with slow, luxurious sex, but he wasn’t going to be able to last long once they really got going. Dragging it out now was more a strain on Tony’s restraint than a fun tease for Steve.

Two fingers _was_ easier, even with the increased pressure; it spread out a little instead of being concentrated all in one spot. Bucky’s fingers rubbed against Tony’s cock inside Steve, and it was like the best kind of tease, pressure and friction and slide. Tony pushed inward, dragging Bucky’s fingers with him, and Steve groaned, sweet and needy.

“God, don’t stop,” he begged. “That’s perfect.”

Bucky slid his fingers out and came back with more lube, and a third. “Almost there, Stevie,” he promised. “Show me how pretty you can take this.”

Steve’s back bowed and arched, his hips making little aborted thrusting motions, desperate. “More,” he begged. “Bucky, please.”

Bucky’s fingers were slipping in and out along with Tony’s slow thrusts, showing almost no resistance. “You gotta ask Tony,” Bucky teased, tugging at Steve’s rim. “He’s the boss.”

Steve didn’t even argue. “Tony,” he begged. “Please. I need both of you. Please, _please_.”

“Yeah, I think you’re ready,” Tony agreed, trying not to show how much of a thrill he got out of that, his two beautiful supersoldiers looking to _him_ , even if only in jest.

Steve sobbed a little when Bucky pulled free, so Tony hooked a thumb in Steve’s hole, keeping it stretched while Bucky got repositioned under Steve, lying face-up so Steve could ride him while Tony rode Steve.

Getting Bucky’s cock in next to Tony’s was a little more work -- possibly they should have started out with Bucky and then had Tony come in second, but somehow, with a lot of maneuvering and laughing, they made it work, and eventually, Bucky slid right in along Tony.

“Oh, god,” Tony breathed. “That feels so...”

“Good?” Bucky suggested. “‘Cause it feels damn good here.”

“Good,” Tony agreed. “Also, a little weird, but definitely good. God, Steve, it looks _amazing_. Look at you, you’re just _stuffed_.”

“Feel stuffed,” Steve agreed, sounding a little slurred, drunk on endorphins and sensation. Tony wanted to fuck him stupid, and also wanted to cuddle and coddle him, a dichotomy that was quickly becoming familiar. “Mm,” Steve sighed. “Could do this all day.”

Tony laughed a little, and Bucky cursed in surprise as it jolted sensation through all three of them in a rippling cascade of motion. “I can’t,” Tony said. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Come on then, gorgeous,” Bucky said. “Let’s get cookin’.” He slid out and back in, and the way he moved against Tony was a delicious counterpoint to the constant squeeze of Steve around them both. Tony moved with him on the next thrust, and Steve gasped and moaned, hands clenching and unclenching restlessly in the bedsheets.

“Oh, god, keep going,” Steve panted. “Feels so good. Feels so... God, I love you, love you both.”

Steve always got sappy when he was high on it. It made Tony feel warm in places he’d never thought to be anything but empty. “Love you too, big guy.” Another slide, and it was almost surreal the way Bucky moved against him, but good, better than good.

Steve gasped and his hole fluttered as he tried to clench down around them. “Christ,” Tony swore. “If I die like this, I want you to make sure it’s in the press release about my death.” Steve laughed, and it happened again, that rippling pressure setting up shockwaves that zeroed in on Tony’s balls, ratcheting the sensation even higher.

“Come on, baby,” Bucky whispered to Steve. “Wanna feel you coming around us.” He wriggled around a little, working his hand between their bodies and started jerking Steve off.

Tony propped one arm on Steve’s back and reached down to help, his fingers curling between Bucky’s. “Yeah, that’s it,” he purred. “Come for us, honey.”

Steve groaned and shuddered, and his ass squeezed so tight it was nearly painful. Tony couldn’t even move, just had to ride it out, stroking Steve through his climax. But as soon as he could move again, it was like every sensation was a hundred times more intense than before. He put his forehead down against the middle of Steve’s back and let it sweep him away.

He kept thrusting as long as he could, but eventually he softened and slipped free. Bucky took over, then, driving up into Steve hard and fast, and it was positively _filthy_ , watching his own come slide out of Steve’s hole, displaced by Bucky’s dick. Filthy, and mind-searingly hot.

Bucky’s whole body tensed, cords standing out on his neck as he shook through his own orgasm, and Steve rose to meet each of those last few arhythmic thrusts, groaning and urging Bucky on.

Tony watched the whole thing with an embarrassing protective, possessive knot in his chest. They were _his_ supersoldiers, _his_ lovers, and they were so damn beautiful, and he wanted to keep them in his bed like this for days. For weeks. Forever.

Tony flopped down beside Steve and panted.

Bucky caught his breath first, which wasn’t surprising, and went to the bathroom. He brought back wet towels so Tony and Steve wouldn’t have to get up, which only made Tony love him more.

When they’d finished cleaning up, Steve pulled Tony and Bucky both down into the bed with him, one on either side. “You enjoy that, baby?” Bucky asked, brushing Steve’s sweat-damp hair back from his forehead.

“Mm,” Steve agreed. He rolled to tuck his face into Tony’s neck, keeping hold of Bucky’s hand so that Bucky was forced to spoon him. “Next time,” he mumbled, still a little high on it and a little loopy, “I wanna try fisting.”

 


	14. Omega's Choice [Bucky/Tony - ABO Dynamics]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s tired of suffering through heats on his own. Tony’s more than happy to help him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship: Bucky/Tony  
> Tags: A/B/O, Heat Sex, Consent is Sexy, Anal Sex

The door to the workshop opened, but when no footsteps followed, Tony looked up to see Bucky lurking in the doorway, shoulders hunched in a way Tony hadn’t seen for months. “Hey, Buckaboo,” Tony called. “Rough day? Need a hiding spot?” Bucky sometimes came to the workshop in search of quiet, a place where no one would ask him questions or push him to do anything. Tony was happy enough to give it to him, an unobtrusive spot on the couch from which Bucky watched Tony work, or sometimes just stared at his fingers.

Bucky shook his head, then nodded, then shrugged. He didn’t come into the workshop, but he didn’t leave, either.

Tony left him to it. Some bad days were worse than others. Bucky would talk when he was ready. If he wanted to be teased into talking, he’d have gone to Steve or Clint.

“Alpha?”

Well, that was unusual. Bucky hadn’t called Tony that since he’d first come to the Tower.

“I’m here,” Tony said. Maybe Bucky just needed to know someone was protecting him, however symbolically.

Bucky dragged in a breath, let it out slowly. Carefully. Steeling himself, which was interesting. “I’m... Would you... Can I...” He grunted, frustrated.

Tony pushed away the model he’d been working on and slid off his stool. This was something big. “Hey, Buckybear, it’s just me,” he said softly. “It’s just us here, you don’t have to--” He was still ten feet away when he smelled it: Bucky was in heat, or fast approaching it. “Oh.” Tony’s throat went dry as his body started to react without his permission.

Now that Tony was looking more closely, Bucky was trembling, just a little, and his skin was flushed and damp with sweat. “Alpha,” he said again, giving it deliberate emphasis. He bowed his head, exposing his neck. “Please, I need...”

Tony closed the space between them, and curled his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck. That trembling crescendoed into a full-body shudder, and then stopped as Bucky let out a long sigh.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked carefully. “It doesn’t have to be me, or even _any_ alpha, if you don’t want that.”

“I know,” Bucky said, and that sounded much less tentative. “I’ve had three heats on my own, and you never said a word. I thought you didn’t want me, but...”

“I do want,” Tony assured him. “I just need to know that you do, too. That you won’t... regret it, a few days from now.”

“Alpha,” Bucky said, and there was a tinge of exasperation to it this time. “You’re kind and good and beautiful. You’re strong and powerful and... How could any omega _not_ want you?”

Tony squeezed the back of Bucky’s neck a little in his grip, and Bucky went limp, just for a moment. “I want to hear it,” Tony said, fighting the demands of his body. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” Bucky said, nearly a sob. “I’ve wanted you for _months_. Please, al-- Tony. _Tony_. Please.”

Maybe it was the use of Tony’s name that cinched it. Tony dragged Bucky closer by the grip on his neck and covered Bucky’s mouth with his own.

Bucky made a soft sound, not quite a moan, but it was like lighting a fire under Tony’s skin. He couldn’t have enough, suddenly, couldn’t touch enough of Bucky’s skin, couldn’t taste enough of Bucky’s mouth. He drove forcefully into Bucky’s pliant mouth, seeking out every corner, demanding surrender with every thrust of his tongue.

“Alpha,” Bucky groaned, pulling Tony closer, until Tony could feel the hot length of Bucky’s heat-desperate cock against Tony’s thigh. “Tony, alpha, _please_...”

Tony put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and pushed until Bucky got the idea and backed up, keeping hold of Tony so they stumbled and fumbled their way into the elevator. “My suite,” Tony ordered. As the elevator started to move, Tony pushed Bucky back against the wall, sliding his thigh between Bucky’s legs.

Bucky tipped his head enticingly, showing off his throat and neck and filling the air with the sweet, warm scent of his heat. His hips rolled frantically against Tony’s thigh, seeking friction. The sight of Bucky’s exposed neck, the smell of him, made Tony’s vision blur with the rush of a matching rut.

“Bucky,” he panted, half-growling already. He tucked his face against Bucky’s neck and inhaled, letting that smell wash over him, soothing that inner beast, the instinct that said even the elevator was too open and exposed, too many others’ scents clouding the air. As soon as the door dinged open, Tony pulled Bucky through, into his living room and heading straight for the bedroom.

Bucky was looking around with wide eyes, but Tony needed for them to be tucked up somewhere secure, somewhere that was only _theirs_. It was a relief to press into the bedroom, his private domain. Even Pepper’s scent had long since faded into part of the background hum.

Bucky shuddered all over as the door closed behind them, utterly enclosed in Tony’s space, Tony’s scent. “Tony,” he gasped, reaching. “Alpha. I need you.”

“I know,” Tony promsied, crowding Bucky toward the bed. “You’ll have me, very soon.” He stripped Bucky’s shirt off, and then his own.

If this weren’t a heat, Tony would want to linger over this. Take his time, exploring and enjoying every inch of skin revealed, teasing and toying until they were both aching with desire, frantic for release. But Bucky had come to him already in the throes of heat, and Tony’s rut had been triggered before they’d even made the elevator. This was going to be fast and hard, simple relief to quiet their bodies’ most urgent demands.

Tony took off his pants, and Bucky followed suit, because he was nobody’s dummy. Tony did pause for a handful of seconds to look at him. Some alphas preferred omegas who were slender and slight, but Tony liked them big and strong. Bucky’s thick muscles and long limbs were a gorgeous delight, as was the dark red cock, leaking precome and bobbing with Tony’s slightest touch anywhere on Bucky’s body.

“Alpha, please,” Bucky whispered. He laid back on the bed and drew up his knees, spreading himself for Tony’s gaze. It was all Tony could do not to plunge immediately into that inviting hole, but he made himself claw at the bedside table until he’d found the lube, and squeeze a generous dollop onto his fingers.

He circled Bucky’s rim with them once, then pressed in, that smooth heat drawing him inward. “That’s right, that’s perfect,” he crooned, twisting and stretching at Bucky’s passage, already loose from the heat. Two fingers, then three, sliding easily. “You feel so good, sweetheart, so hot and greedy for me.”

Bucky arched up into it, searching. “More,” he gasped. “Please, _please_.”

“I know, gorgeous, I know,” Tony said. He pulled his fingers free and slicked himself up. “I’m going to give it to you.” He lined up and pushed, and oh-- Oh. _Oh_ , god, Bucky was _perfect_ , hot and just tight enough to grip without being painful. “Fuck, honey, oh, _Bucky_.”

“Tony, Tony, alpha, fuck me,” Bucky begged, hands scrabbling at Tony’s shoulders even as his hips worked to try to draw Tony further in. “Fuck me, _now_.”

“Yeah, baby,” Tony said, and he fucked hard into Bucky’s body, making Bucky howl with pleasure. The sound satisfied something primal and primitive in Tony’s hindbrain, and he needed to hear it again. He pulled out and slammed home again, and again, reveling in Bucky’s cries, in Bucky’s writhing. He let the haze of rut descend, and they both lost themselves to the scents and sounds and sensations of bodies striving together.

When the haze cleared a little, Tony was on his back, Bucky riding him. Bucky’s head was thrown back, eyes slitted like a cat’s, thighs working to drive them together again and again, relentless as a piston. They’d re-applied lube at some point, and Tony’s stomach was sticky with come, probably Bucky’s, though Bucky’s cock still stood proud and hard.

Even as he took stock, he could feel his body climbing toward climax. “So good,” he gasped, “you feel so good.” He watched Bucky’s face as he wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock, stroking along with the rhythm Bucky was setting. “Come on, sweetheart, come for me.”

Bucky whined and jolted and squirmed at the touch, but didn’t stop driving them both toward the finish. “Alpha,” he panted, “yours, alpha, yours.”

That reached deep into Tony’s backbrain and dragged out a possessive snarl. Tony added a twist to his wrist that made Bucky wail. “Mine,” Tony told him. “You’re _mine_ , omega.” He bit back the rest of the words that crowded his mouth, filthy and commanding and territorial. He wanted to see Bucky practically _covered_ in come, marked with Tony’s spill and the evidence of Bucky’s own acceptance. He wanted to take Bucky a dozen different ways, to hear every needy and desperate sound, to touch and taste and tease every inch of skin, to bite down on Bucky’s neck...

Panting, Tony pushed that aside. Too much, too soon, and Tony was more than his presentation. But _god_ , he wanted it, wanted it all. “Mine,” he told Bucky again, less fierce but no less sincere.

“Yes, alpha,” Bucky promised. “Yours, always. Please, alpha, please...”

“Show me,” Tony coaxed. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Bucky shuddered and his movements grew jerky and erratic. “That’s it,” Tony said. “You’re so beautiful, so good for me. Come for me now, let me see you.”

Bucky cried out, his whole body arching into a curve -- a graph of release, of beauty, of joy. “Alpha!” he gasped, “ _Tony_.”

A white-hot explosion of pleasure echoed through Tony’s body and he thrust upward, burying himself as deeply in Bucky’s body as he could get. “Oh god,” he groaned, his balls aching with their push to empty as fast as possible, to spill every drop of himself into Bucky’s more-than-willing body. “ _God_.”

Bucky fell forward, barely catching himself on his elbows. He nuzzled at Tony’s neck, tucking his nose against Tony’s scent glands. “Thank you,” he panted. “Thank you, alpha, oh... Oh, I needed...”

“Oh, honey,” Tony said, pushing limp fingers through Bucky’s sweat-streaked hair. “That was amazing. That was _perfect_. I should be the one thanking _you_.” He could feel the slow burn of the rut just under his skin, and knew that Bucky’s need was merely banked, as well. Those fires would leap to life again soon, and they’d disappear again together into the haze of heat-and-rut.

But for the moment, he was content enough to simply hold his omega close, whispering praise and affection into Bucky’s hair.

For now, it was enough.

 


	15. That Which Does Not Kill Me [Bucky/Tony - Scars]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky doesn’t want his scars to ruin the moment. Tony just wants Bucky, scars and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Bucky/Tony  
> Chapter Tags: Scar Worship, Self-Esteem Issues, Oral Sex, Handjob

Tony worked his hand under Bucky’s shirt as they kissed, and he started nudging the fabric up and out of the way. He couldn’t believe he was finally _here_ , after months of dreaming about it, finally able to touch, to taste-- Bucky caught his wrist, trapping Tony’s hand against that washboard stomach.

“Too fast?” Tony guessed. “I can slow down, if you’re not ready--”

“No,” Bucky said quickly. “God, no, Tony, I... I want it. I’m just... I’m not...”

“Spit it out, Klondike,” Tony said, wiggling his fingers under Bucky’s palm.

“There are a lot of scars,” Bucky said, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes. “It ain’t pretty.”

“Oh, honey.” Tony sat back, and Bucky watched with wounded eyes as Tony stripped off his own shirt and threw it behind him. “You’re not the only one with scars, here. I’m not going to judge.”

Bucky reached, trailing his fingers lightly over the mass of scars down the middle of Tony’s chest, the scattershot pockmarks left from the shrapnel. Tony watched his face, waiting. Finally, Bucky said, “These _mean_ something. They made you a hero.”

Tony grunted. “Mostly, they remind me that I aided and abetted the villains for too long.”

Bucky looked up, startled. “You didn’t know. That’s not the same thing. When you found out, you stopped it. You were ignorant, not evil.”

“And the scars remind me to keep my eyes open, now. Not to let anything slip through the cracks that might let me be used like that again,” Tony said.

“Mine are just reminders that I’m a monster,” Bucky said, nearly growling.

“No,” Tony told him. He reached for Bucky’s shirt again, raising an eyebrow in question.

Bucky hesitated, then nodded, lifting his arms as Tony pulled off his shirt. The scarring was most dense around the shoulder, of course, showing damage received during the arm’s removal, and a gruesome series of bumps and ridges that gave mute testimony to an assortment of attachment methods they’d tried -- straps and pins and stitches. It made Tony sick to think of how much pain they’d put Bucky through, but the scars themselves were beautiful, smooth and pale.

There were other scars, here and there -- puckered bullet wounds, slender cuts, jagged tears. Whether the wounds had been received in combat or by accident or by malicious intent was a mystery -- the scars kept their secrets. But every one of them was precious. Every one of them was a thing that Bucky had endured and survived, a thing that had brought him to this moment.

Tony leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s shoulder. “This didn’t kill you,” he said. He followed the edges of it, dragging his lips across the smooth skin, letting his beard prickle and tease, savoring the slightly metallic taste. “It didn’t destroy you.” By the time he reached the end of the scar, just above Bucky’s nipple, Bucky’s breath had sped.

Tony found another scar, a bullet wound just a bit to the right of Bucky’s heart, and kissed that, too. “You survived this,” he whispered. “And this.” He kissed another scar. “And this, too.” Another.

“Tony...”

Tony stretched Bucky’s human arm out and found a faint scar in the crook of his elbow. He licked and sucked at it until Bucky shivered. “They had to fight so hard to keep you from being the hero you’d always been,” Tony said. “You were so strong, they couldn’t break you, not for good. They could only _erase_ you, keep you drugged and cloudy and confused, because when they let you know yourself, you turned against them.”

Tony pressed Bucky back against the bed and straddled his hips, kissing, nipping, tasting every scar he could find, no matter how small or faded. “I’m not telling you how to feel about them,” he said, “but I love them. They mean you _fought_. You fought for your life. You fought for control. You fought...” Tony found the newest scar, a still-pink burn from a battle with a squad of Doombots a few days past, and brushed his lips over it gently. “You fought to be a hero.”

Bucky surged up to kiss him, devouring Tony’s mouth. “God, you... You almost make me believe it,” he panted.

Tony hummed smugly. “I’ll keep telling you until you _do_ believe it.”

“That might take a long time,” Bucky cautioned, even as he took hold of Tony’s hips, grinding them together.

“That’s okay,” Tony said. “For you, I have all the time in the world.”

For now, though, before they could grow maudlin, Tony went to work divesting them of the rest of their clothes. Bucky arched up on the bed to help ease his pants down over his hips, and Tony couldn’t resist bending down to take a taste of that gorgeous cock as it was thrust upward. Bucky gasped and jolted, his eyes squeezing shut as he moaned.

It was such a pretty response that Tony went right back to it as soon as they were naked, slipping down between Bucky’s thighs to lick and suck and oh-so-carefully nibble. Each of Bucky’s reactions was better than the last; he was unabashedly verbal, pleading and demanding and cursing and praising every little trick Tony tried. When Tony finally sucked him down, he cried out, his whole body shivering with the effort of staying still.

Tony smiled, as much as he could with Bucky’s not-inconsequential cock in his mouth, and took Bucky as deep as he could, right to the edge of his gag reflex. It had been a while since he’d done this. If they were going to keep doing it -- and god, Tony _hoped_ they were going to keep doing it -- then he’d have to see about training his throat to take it.

Bucky seemed happy enough with Tony’s ability as it was, though, and his words took on an increasingly urgent, frantic tone. “Tony, oh god, baby, you hafta, I’m gonna-- Tony, oh _fuck_ , I don’t think I can hold it, babydoll, I’m--”

Tony squeezed Bucky’s thigh to let him know that the message was received. Bucky whined and slipped his fingers into Tony’s hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting them there. “Oh, god, Tony, oh god--!”

Tony hollowed his cheeks one last time and was rewarded with a surge of warm, bitter-salty come, Bucky arching under him, head thrown back in ecstasy. Tony kept sucking and licking, more gently, through the last of Bucky’s aftershocks, and didn’t let go until Bucky went limp with a long sigh.

“Tony, babydoll,” Bucky panted, “that was somethin’ else.” Tony felt smug at how hard Bucky was breathing. It may have been a while, but he clearly hadn’t lost _too_ much of his skill.

Then Bucky hooked Tony’s leg with one ankle, and Tony found himself on his back, Bucky looming over him, smile bright and charming. “Gonna let me return the favor?”

“Not about to say no,” Tony said. “Do your worst.”

Bucky smirked. “How ‘bout I do my best, instead,” he said, leaning in to nip at the curve of Tony’s neck. He nibbled and licked his way down Tony’s throat and onto his chest, then kissed slowly and reverently all the way around the big scar on Tony’s chest. “Glad you’re so smart, baby,” he said against Tony’s skin. “This might’a killed you, otherwise, an’ I’d’a never got to meet you. And that would’ve been awful.”

The scar wasn’t very sensitive, but the skin around it was; the attention Bucky was giving it was almost maddening with the difference. “Pretty pleased about having lived, myself,” Tony managed, though it was getting hard to think, to come back with a snappy rejoinder.

Bucky hummed and sucked one of Tony’s nipples between his teeth, torturing it with his tongue until Tony was squirming and gasping. Tony curled one hand in the blankets and wrapped the other arm around Bucky’s shoulders, holding on tight.

Bucky slid, his hips slotting in against Tony’s, and oh, _hel_ -lo, but apparently supersoldier recovery speeds applied to _that_ , too. How delightful; Tony was going to have _so_ much fun with that.

Bucky propped his weight on the metal arm and reached between them with the other, curling his hand around both their cocks. “God, Tony, you’re so... You’ve so damn beautiful and _alive_ , and you make me feel alive, too. I can’t get enough of you.”

Tony arched up into the touch and wriggled his own hand in to help, fully enclosing them in the heat and pressure of their combined grip. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned. It was _perfect_ , heated and tight. “Bucky...”

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky breathed into Tony’s ear. “Come on and come for me, sweet thing, let me see you and hear you and feel you and taste you... I want all of you, babydoll, every last bit. Wanna make you mine an’ never let you go.”

Tony’s heart was pounding a rhythm that was echoed in his balls, steadily getting tighter as climax approached. “Mine,” Tony echoed, and it rang true in his ears. He wanted all of Bucky, smooth skin and scarred, good days and bad, fucking wildly or just sitting in companionable quiet. The thought was enough to tip him over the edge, coming in thick streams that made his balls ache with the force of it.

Bucky came as well, only a few strokes later, crying out Tony’s name. When it was done, he tipped onto his side and pulled Tony into his arms, and they lay for a while in near-silence, catching their breaths and enjoying the warmth and closeness. Tony didn’t know what Bucky was thinking, but the way Bucky stroked metal fingers thoughtfully up and down the skin of Tony’s back meant he hadn’t fallen asleep.

After a while, Bucky murmured, “I survived so I could find you.”

Tony tipped his face up to claim a kiss, sweet and slow and thorough. “Scars and all,” he agreed.

 


	16. Long Distance Lover [Steve/Tony, phone sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s away on a business trip, but Steve calls to thank him for the present he left...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from [this prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236/chapters/28997220).
> 
> Chapter Tags: Phone Sex, Masturbation

Tony was barely in his hotel suite when his phone started playing Steve’s ringtone -- the _Star Spangled Man with a Plan_. He’d set it initially as a joke, expecting to get a rise out of his boyfriend, but Steve had just laughed when he’d heard it.

Tony tossed his jacket on the chair and thumbed the answer button. “Hey there, big guy. Did you have JARVIS watching so you’d know the instant I was alone?”

“Tony,” Steve said, that fond tone warming even from thousands of miles away. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Back atcha, hot stuff.” Tony was not going to ask if Steve missed him, because that was just pathetic. And he definitely wasn’t going to ask if Steve had found the present Tony had left, not least because he wasn’t sure if Steve would actually like it. “How was your day?”

“I missed you,” Steve said, low and sincere the way only Steve could be. “I wish you were home now.”

“I wish that, too, cupcake,” Tony agreed. He flopped down onto the couch and leaned back into its embrace, dropping his arm over his eyes. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Steve said. “I know you’d rather be home. I, uh. I found your present.”

Tony sat up. “Did you, now? And what did you think?”

“Well, it’s got nothin’ on the real thing,” Steve drawled, “but it took an edge or two off.”

God, the mental image was stunning. Tony closed his eyes and let himself imagine it. “And here I thought you might need me to talk you through it.”

Steve’s breath caught, just for an instant. Tony only heard it because the phone magnified the sounds so well. He grinned. “Would you like that, Steven?”

“You know,” Steve said, sounding just a little dazed, “I think I might.”

“Yeah? Where are you?”

“In your room, still.”

Tony shivered with want. “Were you naughty on my bed?” he teased. “Without me there?”

“I would’a been even naughtier if you’d been here,” Steve shot back, that Brooklyn accent curling down into Tony’s toes. Under the words, Tony could hear the soft rustle of sheets.

“What are you wearing?” It was the most cliché question possible, but it didn’t feel cheesy in the moment.

“Sweats,” Steve said. “Didn’t bother with anything else.”

Anyone else would’ve lied, made up something: a skimpy, tight outfit; or lingerie in silk and satin and lace; or said they were already naked. Steve’s straightforward honesty was nearly as sexy as his body.

And truthfully, Tony was glad for it. If Steve was dressed up in something pretty just for him, then he wanted to be the one to unwrap it, to worship every inch of skin as it was revealed. “Leave them on for now,” Tony said. “Stretch out and get comfortable.” He suited his own actions to his words, rearranging the pillows on the couch so he could lie down and keep the phone propped easily by his head. He could’ve put it on speaker, but he liked the intimacy of Steve’s voice vibrating into his ear.

The rustling on the phone suggested Steve was doing the same, making himself comfortable on the bed. “Make sure you’ve got your present and some lube handy,” Tony put in. He unbuttoned his shirt.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “I’m ready, Tony.”

“Want you to touch those pretty nipples for me, then,” Tony told him. “Flick them a little, get them nice and perky for me.” Steve’s breath caught again, a little more audibly this time. “That’s it,” Tony coaxed. “I know how sensitive your nipples are, I love it. Did you do this before, or did you go straight to the main event?”

“Pretty much straight to the main event,” Steve admitted. “Pinched ‘em a little while I was goin’.”

That made for a pretty mental image. Tony slid his own hand up under his undershirt. His chest wasn’t as sensitive as Steve’s, but a light pinch still felt pretty good. “Do that now,” he told Steve. “A good pinch, not too soft. I want you to be feeling it for a while.”

Steve moaned into the phone. “T-tony,” he gasped.

“That’s perfect,” Tony purred. “Now slide down for me, hot stuff -- not all the way. Not yet. Just tease at the top of your pants for a minute, let yourself anticipate...”

Steve’s breathing was rough and uneven. “Like this better when it’s your hand and I don’t know where it’s goin’ next,” he admitted.

“I like that, too,” Tony agreed. “Go on and reach in there, get a good handful.” Tony opened his own trousers and teased at the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You too,” Steve rasped. “Want you to be right there with me, Tony. Touch yourself.”

God, that was sexy. Tony stroked a hand down his cock. “Yeah, Steve. Are you hard for me, sweetheart?”

“Been hard since you answered the phone,” Steve said. “The things you do to me, Tony...”

“So many things I want to do to you right now,” Tony said, a promise to be collected later. “Push your pants down -- not all the way off, just down to your thighs. I want you trapped in them and squirming, so you can’t spread your legs all the way, can’t get that relief. I want you to have to fight for control.”

“Ogod, Tony,” Steve groaned. In the background, the sheets rustled a little as he did it.

Tony painted that mental image and had to squeeze at the base of his dick to back down off the edge a little, just imagining it. “Now lube up for me, honey. Get that big cock of yours all slippery and wet.”

Steve’s breath came in heavy puffs as he did it, and Tony smeared precome around the head of his dick, getting it slick. “How you feeling, big guy?” Tony asked. “You ready for some action?”

“God, _yes_ ,” Steve said. His voice was rough and breathy. “Tony, please...”

“Go on, then,” Tony said, “get it on there. Take it nice and slow, though. Just slide on in, easy does it.” Steve whined through his teeth, and Tony grinned, smug. Being able to reduce Steve to this state was a hell of an achievement. “Tell me how it feels,” Tony demanded.

“Uh-- It’s. It’s tight and slick,” Steve gasped. “Not as tight as you, but still good. Still... Oh, Tony, I need more, please.”

Tony started stroking himself, firm but slow, a tease. “Not just yet,” he told Steve, and Steve’s whimper seemed to travel straight from Tony’s ear to his cock. “God, that’s good, baby.”

“Are you... You’re doing it too, right?”

“Yeah, Steve, I’m right there with you. Nice, tight squeeze. I’m having to fight it to keep from popping off. That’s what you do to me, just your voice, just knowing you’re touching yourself and thinking of me.”

Steve groaned, and Tony could hear the wet, obscene noises the lube made with each slow thrust. “Tony, oh... tell me I can go faster, I need...”

Tony let his own hand speed up, rolling it across the head with each stroke. “Yeah, Steve, speed it up for me, honey. Tell me how good you’re feeling.”

“So good, Tony, you always make me feel so good, even when I can’t be with you.” Steve’s breath was harsh and fast now. “Oh god, I’m close, so close.”

The sheer desperation in Steve’s tone made Tony’s toes curl with need, and he sped up again, adding a twist to his wrist. “That’s it, honey,” he coaxed, “let me hear you coming for me.”

“Oh, oh, _oh,_ ” Steve gasped. “Tony, I, I, I— _oh..._ ”

Tony’s own climax washed over him like a warm tropical wave. “Fuck, Steve... Christ, what you do to me.”

On the phone, Steve was panting for air as he recovered. “I love you,” he said.

“Love you too, snugglebunny,” Tony said. “Can’t wait to get home and get that again, with visuals.”

“Oh, _god_ ,” Steve said, and Tony could practically hear the blush climbing his neck. “Tony!”

Tony laughed, then sighed. “Can’t wait to get home, period,” he admitted. “I miss you.”

“Miss you, too,” Steve said. “Phone sex is fun, but it’s just not the same.”


	17. Traditions of Touch [OTEveryone - Cuddles]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a particularly tough fight, the Avengers have a tradition. Sam’s only now finding out about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship: Bruce/Bucky/Clint/Natasha/Steve/Tony/Sam  
> Chapter Tags: Cuddling, Healing Touch

Steve lowered himself gingerly onto the couch, wincing as even that much movement jostled his injuries. Tony flopped down next to him, cursing as the way it jarred his splinted arm and bandaged shoulder.

“You know,” Steve said, “if you sat down a little more carefully--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tony said, waving him off impatiently.

“Popcorn?” Clint called from the kitchen.

“I’ll come help,” Steve said, and leaned forward, bracing himself to stand up again.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Natasha chided. She sat down on Steve’s other side and laid across both his lap and Tony’s, effectively pinning them into place. “Pet my hair,” she commanded.

Tony scoffed, but started carding the fingers of his uninjured hand through her hair, gently working out the tangles.

Clint brought in two big bowls of popcorn and settled on the floor, leaning back against one of Steve’s legs and one of Tony’s. Natasha dropped her arm over the side of the couch to drape over Clint’s torso.

Bruce shuffled in and sat on Tony’s other side, leaning against Tony’s arm and -- as near as Steve could figure -- immediately dropping off. Bucky limped in, eyed the tangle of limbs for a moment, and then sat gingerly next to Clint on the floor, tipping his head back against Natasha’s thigh. “Fuck aliens,” he mumbled.

Sam came in, then, and froze briefly at the sight of the huddled Avengers. “Uh.”

“Come on, don’t be shy,” Tony said. He pointed imperiously at the floor in front of Bruce. “That’s a good spot; Bruce is practically a space heater, after a hulk-out.”

“Are you sure--”

“Get your ass over here, Wilson,” Natasha said. Steve considered adding his own reassurances, but Sam was already moving.

He folded down onto the floor, then reached up and stole a couple of cushions from under Bruce’s arm. He and Tony engaged in a brief squabble over whether a pillow could go on Tony’s foot, and then he was settled, more or less, leaning into the warmth that Steve could feel radiating off Bruce. “Y’all do this every time?” he asked.

“Nah,” Clint said. “Just when it was a tough one.” He offered Sam a bowl of popcorn. “When we need some extra reassurance that we’re all in one piece. It started with just me and Tash, but Cap found us, and we thought he could use it. It sort of evolved from there.”

“Am I stealing someone’s spot?” Sam wanted to know.

“Nope,” Steve told him. “We’re not that organized. Though Thor likes to lay across everyone’s legs, when he’s on the planet. He’s like a giant puppy.”

Sam shuffled some more and finally started relaxing into the group pile. Steve supposed it _did_ look a little odd, from the outside, but it helped them all unwind from a battle, to allow themselves to believe they’d all made it through another one. Or, in the event one of them was too injured to leave medical, to comfort and reassure each other that they were going to pull through.

“Let go of your preconceived notions,” Tony said. “Touch is good for healing, and it’s good team bonding, too.”

“I know that,” Sam said. “I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t stumbled into some weird post-battle orgy or something.” He laughed a little. Clint laughed along with him, and Bucky snorted.

Steve elbowed Tony before Tony could respond to that. Probably best Sam found out about _that_ tradition after he’d gotten used to this one.

 


	18. Much-Needed Break [Bucky/Rhodey - shower sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need to take a break from your idiot best friend. Who better to spend that time with than someone else who has an idiot best friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Shower Sex, Oral Sex, Masturbation, Massage, Brojob, Friends with Benefits

Bucky needed a break. He was just about _done_ with Steve, and Steve wisely -- for a change -- did not follow when Bucky stormed toward the showers to wash off the ichor and slime that had resulted from Steve’s cowboy approach to monster-containment.

By chance, he nearly ran into Rhodey, also coming into the team showers. Rhodey was drenched in fire-retardant chemicals.

Rhodey held the door open and waved Bucky through ahead of him.

“Thanks,” Bucky said, already stripping out of his gear.

“Doing us both a favor; that stuff stinks,” Rhodey said. He peeled off his own shirt, and nodded at the tac gear Bucky was shoving down the chute -- cleaning or incinerator, he didn’t much care which. “Your boy?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed. “Shield makes a great weapon, except for when I’m standing right underneath the impact point.” He held the chute door open so Rhodey could push his foam-covered shirt and pants into it. “Yours?”

Rhodey nodded. There really wasn’t any need to explain Tony’s penchant for things that exploded or caught fire. He brushed against Bucky as he leaned past to shove his clothes through the door, his skin warm and clean-smelling, at least by comparison.

“Share a shower?” Bucky offered. “Conserve water, right?”

Rhodey smirked. “Well, if conserving water is the goal...” He dragged his shoulder more deliberately against Bucky’s chest as he withdrew, and made his way to the nearest shower stall.

Bucky followed. He ducked under the spray as soon as he could; that ichor really did stink like hell. Luckily, it didn’t do anything horrible like burst into flame on contact with water, and even more luckily, it rinsed out fairly quickly.

It rinsed even more quickly when Rhodey added his hands to Bucky’s hair. Long, strong fingers worked down to the scalp and lightly massaged the water through, rinsing out the last of the nastiness. “Oh, damn,” Bucky groaned, slumping against the wall. “That feels perfect.”

“You think that feels good...” Rhodey dug his thumbs into Bucky’s aching neck and shoulder muscles, and Bucky slumped even further, with a groan that sounded obscene.

“Keep it up,” Bucky gasped, “and I’m gonna have to blow you.”

“Well, that’d be a shame,” Rhodey said. He didn’t stop. He didn’t shy away from the seam of flesh and metal at Bucky’s shoulder, either, just adjusted the angle to dig at muscles half-covered by the plates. “I’ll make it worth your while, first.”

By the time Rhodey stopped, the last of the gunk had swirled down the drain and Bucky’s muscles felt like putty that had been left too long in the sun, stretchy and loose and pliant. Bucky was only too happy to fold to his knees -- remaining standing had been an effort of will for the last several minutes anyway, even with a wall to brace against.

Rhodey’s cock was gorgeous, long and thick enough that Bucky’s jaw ached just thinking about it. It was dark and flushed, glistening in the spray from the shower, and Bucky’s mouth watered. He took in the head with no preamble, flicking his tongue across the slit to capture the bitter, satisfying taste of precome.

Rhodey grunted and laid his own hand against the wall. “Yeah, okay,” he breathed.

Bucky opened his mouth wider and took Rhodey in a little deeper, letting the ridge of Rhodey’s cock drag enticingly across his tongue. Bucky curled his flesh hand around the base to hold it steady and control the depth, and pushed a little deeper.

Rhodey’s fingers worked into Bucky’s hair, just holding on, for now. A burst of an image flashed across Bucky’s eyelids: Rhodey holding him by the hair, tipping his head back and fucking into his mouth, into his throat--

Bucky moaned in pleasure at the thought, and that hold tightened, just a bit, as Rhodey reacted to the vibrations. Bucky curled his tongue around Rhodey’s cock, teasing, begging for it. He put the metal hand on Rhodey’s hip, tugging gently. _Fuck me_.

“Touch yourself,” Rhodey said. “Let me see.”

Bucky released Rhodey’s cock, giving up control. Heat flashed through him, and he spread his knees wider and grabbed for his own erection, hanging there hot and desperate. He groaned again and Rhodey pushed into his mouth, only a little, just brushing against the back of his throat before retreating again.

Bucky focused on keeping his jaw and throat relaxed, on breathing in rhythm with Rhodey’s movements, and his hand followed suit. It seemed even the pulse of his blood matched that relentless rhythm, driving deeper and deeper. Bucky moaned approval and want, his cock jerking in his grasp.

“That’s it,” Rhodey praised, “just let go, let me in.”

When Rhodey pushed into his throat, it was almost impossible to suppress the instinct to swallow, and then to gag. Tears rose in Bucky’s eyes involuntarily, and the warm water of the shower washed them away. Gratitude bloomed: Bucky _needed_ this, needed to be used, to sink into his skin and be nothing more than a hole to fill, a body to fuck, a need to meet. His cock swelled even more and fire built in Bucky’s balls.

He wanted to speed up, to race toward that finish line, but he couldn’t bring himself to deviate from the pace Rhodey set, steady and inexorable. Bucky whined, deep in his chest, opened his legs further, writhing with the need for _more_.

Finally, the dam burst and that white-hot need exploded through Bucky’s body, filling his limbs and his fingers and his toes and his cock, _god_ , his cock. He came, and two thrusts later he came _again_ , his hand still mindlessly stroking in time. He cried out, as much as he could with his mouth and throat full of Rhodey’s heat.

Rhodey’s hands in Bucky’s hair tightened, pulling Bucky tight in against his body, Bucky’s nose pressed against his body so that all Bucky could smell was sweet-salty skin and sex. Rhodey’s hands shook and then he was coming down Bucky’s throat, hot and bitter and perfect.

Rhodey released him, and he sat back on his heels to pant for breath, leaning against the wall again to watch the water rinse away the last of his come. His knees ached, but he didn’t care. He tipped his head back to let the water fall on his face, stinging his bruised lips.

Rhodey traced those lips with his thumb. Carefully, almost tenderly, he wiped spilled come from the corners of Bucky’s mouth, and then helped Bucky stand up again.

“Better?” he asked as he turned off the water.

Bucky grabbed for a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He felt limp and clumsy. “Yeah,” he sighed happily. “That was _great_. You?”

“Definitely. Cleaned up and refreshed and ‘bout ready to get back to Tony’s experiments,” Rhodey admitted. “You gonna go make Steve check in at medical?”

Bucky considered it. He no longer wanted to punch Steve in the nose. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Back to ridin’ herd on our dumb boys.”

Who better to take a break with, than someone else who knew what it was like to have an idiot best friend?

 


	19. VIP Tour [Peter Quill/Tony, Zero-gravity Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gives Tony a tour of the Milano, including some very special sights and activities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ship: Peter Quill/Tony Stark  
> Major Tags: Zero-Gravity Sex, Comic book science, Oral Sex, Sixty-Nine

“And this is my lady,” Peter Quill said, gesturing gallantly for Tony to precede him up the ramp into the _Milano_. “I’m looking forward to giving you the special tour. The one with the bedrooms.” He made a face. “Well, not Gamora’s. Or Drax’s. Or-- Mine. Just mine. My bedroom. That I’m going to show you on the tour.”

Peter had been awkwardly flirting like that ever since the Guardians had introduced themselves to the Avengers. Tony would’ve put Peter out of his misery and sealed the deal a week ago, but it was amusing to watch him try to be subtle or smooth and then trip all over himself.

“Does the special tour include taking her out into the black?” Tony wondered. He’d always wanted to go into space. _Properly_ , without some horrible portal that might leave him stranded. But with a ship around him, and a view of the stars through a window, maybe, or screens of data... Now _that_ was an exciting prospect.

 _Very_ exciting.

Tony stepped into Peter’s personal space. “Just a quick spin,” he urged. “I promise we’ll be home before curfew.”

The moment Peter caught on was like watching a match head flare to life, all light and heat. “I guess we could hop up just for a look around,” he agreed. His hand came up to rest on Tony’s hip, and Tony leaned into the touch encouragingly.

Peter leaned in, and Tony was willing enough -- but then Peter blinked and jerked back. “Taking her up,” he said. “Right. Let’s... do that.” He pulled away, heading for the cockpit, and Tony was surprised by how cold the spot on his hip felt, without Peter’s hand there.

Still: _space_. He followed Peter, strapping himself into the copilot’s seat, trying to decipher the controls as Peter flipped switches and pulled levers. It didn’t seem to take any time at all before the _Milano_ was rising, a much gentler lift than a plane or even the quinjet. Tony was going to have to find out how that worked.

That speculation was cut short by the darkening sky around them. Tony had made it into the stratosphere both in the quinjet and in his suit, but he’d never made it any higher. The satellites got brighter as they maneuvered past them, and the stars ceased to twinkle and flared more brilliantly. Tony leaned forward to look: the Earth was receding below them, a massive, beautiful curve of blue.

“God, that’s gorgeous.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until Peter answered.

“You get used to it.” Peter shrugged sheepishly when Tony looked at him. “Planets come and go. I’d rather enjoy the view in here.”

“Wow,” Tony said. “That was impressively cheesy. Does that work for you, with aliens?”

“More often than you’d think,” Peter said, his grin spreading. “The important question is: is it working now?”

“No,” Tony said, but he didn’t mean it. There really wasn’t a better backdrop for... well, for _anything_. “Ever had sex in here?”

Peter laughed. “Gamora won’t let me talk about the blacklight anymore, but, uh, yeah, pretty much everywhere.”

“Good,” Tony said, “because this view...”

“Whatever does it for ya,” Peter agreed. “Oh! Hey, what if I turn off the gravity?”

“Really? I thought that caused... problems,” Tony asked.

“Nah,” Peter said. “Only if it stays off for a long while. Which I found out once when the grav-boost got busted. But if you just turn it off for an hour or two, it should be good. Here, watch.” He flipped three switches on the console, and pressed a button.

The lack of gravity was immediate and complete. Tony’s hands went where he told them to, but didn’t drop back to the armrest or his lap when he let go. “Oh, this is cool.” He unbuckled and floated out of his seat.

Peter laughed and grabbed him by the shirt, tugging him back behind the pilots’ chairs. “C’mere; I don’t need you kicking the board and accidentally launching us into the nearest jump-point.”

It took Tony a couple of minutes to get the hang of moving and orienting himself, with Peter’s laughing encouragement and suggestions. It was the most fun he’d had in weeks, in _months_. Finally, he bounced off the bulkhead and spun around midair, floating back over to where Peter waited, one foot hooked in the back of the pilot’s chair as an anchor.

“This is great,” Tony said. “Thank you.”

“God, you’re gorgeous when you’re smiling and laughing,” Peter said, hearts in his eyes. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Maybe,” Tony said. “I like hearing it from you, though.” He bumped into Peter, who snaked an arm around him to keep him from floating back the other way.

“That was pretty cheesy,” Peter said. “I think we’re even now.”

“Not even a little bit,” Tony said, grinning. But he pressed against Peter’s warmth, letting Peter feel the way he was swelling and firming. A little slower, maybe, than in gravity, but there all the same.

Peter hummed thoughtfully, and pulled Tony closer still. His fingers traced the strip of skin just above Tony’s waistband. “Wouldn’t mind seeing some more of you,” he said.

It was a good thing Tony liked cheese. “As long as that’s a two-way street,” he said. He stripped his shirt off, tucking it in a convenient nook to keep it from floating away, then slipped his hands along Peter’s chest, pushing the jacket off Peter’s shoulders.

“Hell, yes,” Peter breathed. He pulled off his own shirt, and reached for Tony.

The lack of gravity set them spinning as they came together, dancing in midair as they kissed. Peter kissed with confidence, but stopped just short of arrogance. He teased at the seam of Tony’s lips until Tony let him in, then mapped out the inside of Tony’s mouth with thorough intent.

Tony let himself luxuriate in the sensation, even as he struggled with the clasp of Peter’s pants. Stupid space pants; the catches and connectors were _just_ different enough from Earth’s that Tony couldn’t work them blind. He had to pull away to look.

“What? No, wh-- Oh. Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Peter said. He helped Tony with his own pants first -- apparently space fashion was to go commando, or maybe that was just Peter -- and then started to peel Tony’s pants down, too.

Now they were spinning on multiple axes, the cockpit cabin swirling around them in a crazy, barely-predictable pattern that Tony couldn’t help watching.

“You’ll make yourself sick like that,” Peter warned, and he curled a hand around Tony’s cock, bringing Tony’s focus right back to the warm space between them. “Eyes here,” Peter said, smirking.

“Oh, my eyes are very much here,” Tony returned. He reached down (or was it up? Directions didn’t really make sense without gravity) and cupped Peter’s balls.

They stroked and teased and fondled, and it was the best kind of sex -- fun and verging on silly, with a slowly-building heat underneath -- with the added spice of weightlessness, like fucking in a big hottub, but better.

Peter’s hands seemed to be everywhere, touching and teasing, stroking and soothing. The ship’s air was warm enough, but Peter’s skin was like a furnace. Tony couldn’t stop touching, either -- Peter’s arms and back and legs and surprisingly firm abs, and always coming back to his cock, even hotter than the rest of him, firm and smooth, precome gathering at the tip until Tony spread it down along Peter’s length.

Peter moaned, and then he twisted until he was mouthing along Tony’s cock, tormenting it with little licks and the barest scrape of teeth.

Tony shuddered. “Oh, god...”

“Only half-god,” Peter joked, and sucked the head of Tony’s cock into the wet heat of his mouth.

Tony threw his head back with a moan, which set them spinning again. Tony tugged at Peter’s leg and pulled him around -- oh, fuck, the way Peter’s mouth _rotated_ on Tony’s dick was just unbelievable -- until Tony could return the favor. The lack of gravity made a lot of the awkwardness of sixty-nining go away. And zero gees meant that it was probably for the best if they didn’t shoot off into the air, anyway, what with fluid dynamics and all.

Tony shoved aside the thought of physics and concentrated on giving the best blowjob he knew how to give. Which was difficult, because Peter was doing unspeakably amazing things to Tony’s cock, making it hard to concentrate.

It was just bodies, then, pleasure and heat, curling tongues and gasps of breath and gently probing fingers. Peter got there first, a flood of bitter and salt in Tony’s mouth, and a loud groan that vibrated into Tony’s cock and up into his balls, making them clench deliciously.

“Oh, shit, I’m--” Peter took the hint and began to suck harder, and Tony came, an explosion of fire in his veins that made him cry out as Peter’s talented tongue coaxed out wave upon wave of aftershocks. “Oh god, stop stop stop,” Tony finally panted.

Peter released him with a chuckle. He carefully halted their spin and pushed off the wall to clamber back into the pilot’s chair, still beautifully naked. He flicked a few switches, and the gravity eased back on, giving Tony just enough time to re-orient and land without falling into an undignified heap.

Tony found his underwear and tugged them on, but didn’t bother with the rest of his clothes before he dropped into the co-pilot’s seat. “Great tour,” he said. “All the best highlights. Five stars on Yelp.”

Peter grinned at him. “Maybe next time, we’ll actually make it to the rest of the ship.”

 


	20. Coming Home [Pepper/Rhodey/Tony - Threesome, mild D/s]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s favorite part of a battle is the part afterward, when he comes home to be with the people he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Threesome, M/M/F, Oral Sex, Mild D/s, Service Top!Pepper

There was nothing quite like coming home after a battle.

Tony landed first, despite his best efforts with a bit of a wobble. He could see the worry on Pepper’s face where she stood just inside the doors. Not quite outright fear -- Rhodey would’ve called her while they were still debriefing if there were anything that couldn’t be taken care of with the (admittedly well-stocked) first aid kit in the warehouse.

Things had gone a lot smoother since they’d invited Rhodey to join the relationship. He bridged the gap between Tony’s self-destructive tendencies and Pepper’s worry. With Rhodey to buffer them, she’d come to terms with the fact that they were going to keep putting themselves into harm’s way. And Tony had learned to accept that she was going to take care of him _off_ the field.

By the time Tony made it through the removal rig and through the doors, she was standing in front of them, hands on her hips. “Get in here,” she said. “Let me see you.”

Tony obediently came close and spread his arms so she could examine him. “I’m fine, Pep.”

“You’re never _fine_ ,” she shot back. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just ask JARVIS.”

“Bumps and bruises,” he said, shrugging. “Got a goose egg on the back of my head, but it’s not concussed; I had JARVIS check.”

Behind him, Jim had landed on the gantry and was walking through the rig. “Go sit down,” she told Tony. “I’ll take a look.”

Tony thought about arguing, but Pepper gave him a sharp look that coalesced into a hot stone in his center. That was the way they worked, after all: outside the penthouse, Tony was a superhero, a celebrity, a genius. The media’s darling and nightmare in one. Second-in-command of the Avengers.

Inside the penthouse, he left all of that behind. Inside the penthouse, all he was, was _hers_.

So he tossed off a mock-salute, instead, with a crisp “Yes, ma’am!” and then strolled toward the lounge, careful not to limp.

He pulled a cushion onto the floor -- Pepper would feel better if he could sit at her feet. If he was too stiff and injured to get down onto the floor, she’d only fret -- and carefully folded himself down onto it. He leaned back against the couch and let his head fall back onto the seat cushions.

Pepper was already leading Rhodey over. That gash in his arm looked nasty, and Tony immediately started projecting the damage his gauntlet must have sustained, and what he’d need for the repairs, and upgrades to make that less likely to happen, and--

“Shh,” Pepper said, her slim fingers twining into his hair, careful of his bruises. “Stop thinking.”

Tony could stop thinking about as well as he could stop breathing, but he leaned against her leg as she sat down and made himself focus on counting breaths, to listening to her gentle scolding as she cleaned out Rhodey’s cut and bandaged it up.

Then she turned to Tony and checked him for signs of concussion -- he didn’t think he’d had one, but he _did_ get shaken around in the armor a lot, which occasionally led to a bump that was a bit worse than he thought. Apparently not this time, though, as Pepper put the first aid kit away without further commentary.

Tony caught Rhodey’s eye and felt his lips twitch toward a smile. They’d made it home, and now they could rest, let Pepper take care of them. Rhodey smiled back, and settled his head more comfortably against Pepper’s thigh.

Tony almost dozed off, but then Pepper was poking him with her toes. “Get up, it’s bath time.”

Tony had gotten a little stiff, sitting on the floor, but Pepper wasn’t trying to make him hurry. He got up slowly, stretching his aching limbs -- the shower would be good for that, too -- and shuffled after her into the bathroom.

The shower was already steaming by the time he came in. Pepper was wrapping Rhodey’s bandage with plastic wrap to keep it dry, but she shooed Tony toward the water. He shed his clothes and went gratefully, glad to finally rinse off the sweat and smell of battle. He ducked his head under the spray of one of the jets, letting the heat ease the soreness in his muscles.

The touch of hands on his back startled him out of a half-doze -- Rhodey, soaping him down. Pepper was just closing the door, and she reached for the shampoo.

Tony put his head back down and let them clean him. Rhodey scrubbed firmly over his skin, testing the edges of bruises and scrapes; Pepper’s strong, capable fingers massaged shampoo into Tony’s hair. Her favorite scent, the one that Tony associated now with lazy mornings and slow lovemaking.

His cock stirred at the thought. Tony thought of suppressing it, but by then, Rhodey was washing his genitals, tugging gently with the slick slide of soap between them, and it felt too good to turn away from.

“Someone’s feeling better,” Rhodey teased.

“No getting off until I say so,” Pepper ordered, the firm snap of her voice a contrast to the gentle feel of her nails skritching across Tony’s scalp to work out the last of the shampoo.

“That’s not _no touching_ ,” Rhodey observed, slowly stroking Tony to full hardness.

“No, it’s not,” Pepper agreed, watching with evident enjoyment. Her heavy-lidded, appreciative stare was almost more of a turn-on than Rhodey’s touch.

Tony shook off the last of his lethargy and turned to face Rhodey, grabbing for the soap to return the favor.

Pepper watched them for a few moments, then leaned against the wall and propped one foot up on the bench. “Jim first,” she said.

There was no denying _that_ siren call. Rhodey dropped to his knees and kissed his way up the inside of Pepper’s thigh before licking into her folds. Pepper hummed approvingly and held out one hand to Tony.

Tony let her draw him in. He kissed her, licking into her mouth, tasting her tongue. She tasted different every time, and yet the same, an essential flavor of _Pepper_ that only made him feel more urgent, more desperate for her. She caught his hand and put it on her breast, a wordless command that he was more than eager to follow.

He cupped her breast, flicked the nipple with his thumb until she was breathing hard, arching up into his touch, letting out soft moans that he swallowed hungrily. He kissed and licked at the slender column of her neck, along the delicate line of her collarbone, down to suckle gently at her nipple, while he toyed with the other nipple between his fingers.

Rhodey’s efforts between her legs were making her hips buck, and Rhodey put his hands on her hips to hold her still, tipped his head a little to reach her bud at a better angle, dragging across it. Tony couldn’t see, exactly, but they’d done this enough to recognize the smug smile on Rhodey’s mouth between licks, the way Pepper’s limbs quivered under Tony’s hands.

Just like he recognized the breathy moan she made when she came, and Rhodey’s happy hum. Rhodey didn’t stop until Pepper made a sound more pained than pleasured and pushed him away. She sagged into Tony’s arms for a moment, letting him hold her up.

“That’s a good start,” she said. “I think we’ll need to dry off and take this into the bedroom, for Tony’s turn.” That was her coddling his aging joints, and they all knew it, but he wasn’t going to argue. “And then,” she added, “we’ll see if you boys can earn permission to get off.”

Tony shivered with anticipation. He reached down to help Rhodey up off the shower floor, then ducked in for a kiss, licking Pepper’s taste out of Rhodey’s mouth.

He sighed happily, the last of the battle’s stress sliding away. Coming home made everything else worth the effort.

 


	21. Who am I to Disagree [Bucky/Steve/Sam - Facefucking]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never let it be said that Sam Wilson refused to give a partner what they wanted in bed. (Continued from [Is This the Real Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236/chapters/28419224) and [Oh Say Can You See](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12470236/chapters/28938933) )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Threesome, Oral Sex, Facefucking

“You wanna get your mouth on me,” Sam said, “you’d best get on with it, before I just jerk it over here, watching.” He suited action to the threat, dragging his hand down and back up, nice and slow. He still couldn’t quite believe that Barnes and Steve were propositioning him, but damned if he was going to turn it down just because it seemed to wild to be true.

Barnes hummed again and Steve made a desperate noise, eyes squeezing shut and hips arching off the bed. And Barnes just _took it_ , sweet Jesus, though Steve’s come was leaking out of his lips to drip down his chin. Sam’s cock jumped at the sight.

Barnes pulled off, licking his lips and wiping his face with his arm. “Get over here,” he said, and his voice was _wrecked_ , rough and dark and sexy as fuck. “We’re tired of waiting.”

Sam couldn’t argue with that. He stepped over to the bed, propping one knee next to Steve’s hip. “I couldn’t help but overhear somethin’ ‘bout my cock and your mouth,” he told Steve.

Steve half-sat, propped up on his elbows. His pupils were so wide the blue of them was barely visible. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “You gonna give me what I want?”

“Oh, I’m gon’ give it to you, all right,” Sam agreed. He grabbed a handful of Steve’s hair and pulled, and Steve’s head tipped right back, easy as could be.

Sam leaned in, then hesitated -- if this was just stress relief, if this was a one-time thing, then kissing might be off the table. But Steve’s eyes were practically glued to Sam’s mouth. Steve licked his lips. “You gonna kiss me, or just stare all day?” he demanded.

Behind Sam, Barnes snorted. “Mouthy punk,” he said. “Shut him up before he gets goin’, already.”

Steve twitched and made a noise that suggested Barnes had started teasing at his cock again, so Sam closed the distance between them and touched his mouth to Steve’s, feeling the give in those thick, plush lips. Sam licked at the seam of them until Steve opened his mouth, then teased at the warm interior until Steve groaned and surged up into it, kissing Sam with desperate need.

“C’mon, Sam,” he panted. “Need to taste you.”

“Greedy,” Barnes chided.

Sam put a hand in the middle of Steve’s chest and pushed until Steve laid back down, then climbed up onto the bed to position himself over Steve’s face.

He had a moment of vertigo, a sudden swooping of distance that made everything feel distant and unreal -- if anyone had told him a year ago that he’d be here, he’d have kicked their ass for making shit up. And then he was lowering himself into Steve’s waiting mouth, hot and wet and open wide.

And Sweet Jesus, but Steve tipped his head back to let Sam slide right down. “Oh fuck,” Sam groaned. Steve sucked like a goddamn hoover, hard enough to border on pain. “Oh, _fuck_.”

Barnes chuckled. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Go on and really give it to him.”

Sam went slowly, at first, content to savor the warmth and slide and suction. But then Steve’s hands cupped his ass -- Christ, the man had big hands -- and began urging Sam to push faster, harder.

Let it not be said that Sam Wilson refused to give someone what they wanted in bed with him. He braced his hands on the wall and fucked into Steve’s mouth harder still, teasing that soft patch at the back of Steve’s throat, watching as Steve’s eyes rolled up and those long eyelashes fluttered. Steve bucked under him, and Barnes laughed, low and wicked.

“Oh, yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Barnes taunted. Sam didn’t know what he was doing back there, but whatever it was, it had Steve on edge. “Give it to him good, Wilson. I don’t want him to know whether he’s going or coming.” Barnes snickered at his own pun.

“You good with that?” Sam asked Steve, checking in.

Steve nodded, just a little, eyes widening and hands clenching on Sam’s hips like he was pleading. And damn if that didn’t make for an image that Sam would savor for years, Steve Rogers’ mouth stretched around his cock and begging for more.

“You got it,” Sam said, and he bucked his hips hard, pushing into the tight passage of Steve’s throat. Steve’s eyes watered, but he didn’t try to pull away at all, just tipped his head back a little further to make it easier.

Sam fucked Steve hard, and from the way Steve was moaning around him and getting more desperate with each breath, he got the idea that Barnes had stopped playing around, too. Steve had stopped trying to suck, too, just kept his mouth slack and open for Sam’s pounding.

Barnes’ breath had gone ragged, like he was reaching the end of his own rope, so Sam looked down at where he was slamming into Steve’s mouth and let himself feel it, deep down in his balls. It was perfect, it was heat and wet and tight around him and Steve’s moans vibrated right down into Sam’s fucking _toes_ , it seemed. The world went away for a minute, lost in the bright explosion of his climax and the feel of Steve swallowing around him.

He came back to himself to pull out of Steve’s mouth and let the man breathe; Sam flopped down next to him on the bed, panting slightly less desperately. “Damn,” he managed. “That was a hell of a thing.”

“That,” Rogers said, voice rough from the way Sam had used his throat, “that was _fantastic_.”

Barnes crawled up onto the bed and stretched out on Steve’s other side. The bed wasn’t nearly big enough for all three of them, but Sam wasn’t inclined to move unless they told him to. “Not bad for a first try,” Barnes admitted.

“Jerk,” Steve complained, but he turned his head to kiss Barnes thoroughly. Steve’s mouth had to taste like Sam, still, but Barnes didn’t seem to mind.

After a minute, Steve turned toward Sam and gave him the same treatment, a slow, thorough exploration of Sam’s mouth that left him almost more dazed than the orgasm had. “Who the hell taught you to kiss?” he demanded.

He could practically _feel_ the smug radiating off Barnes. “That’d be me. Not bad, huh?”

“‘Salright,” Sam said, faking a nonchalance he knew both of them would see through. “Hafta teach you how we do it back home, though.”

“We get through this mess,” Steve promised, “and we’ll all have a lot to learn.”

 


	22. What it Gets You [Bucky/Tony, Improvised Bondage & Semi-Public Sex]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has many kinds of armor. Bucky thinks all of them are sexy as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Bondage, Improvised Bondage, Tie-Pulling, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex

Say what you want about Bucky’s “murder strut,” but to his mind, there was nothing finer or sexier in this world than seeing Tony suited up and closing in for a kill. It was true on the battlefield, of course, but it was equally true in other arenas.

Like now, Tony standing before a Congressional committee meeting yet again and owning the floor every time he stood up to speak. He was wearing one of those bespoke suits that fit him perfectly, square shoulders and a jacket exactly the right length that Bucky could _just_ see the bottom curve of his gorgeous ass in those exquisitely-tailored slacks. Tony’s pocket square was perfectly aligned in his breast pocket, a brilliant Iron Man red that precisely matched the silk tie that completed this particular suit of armor, embroidered red-on-red with an abstract design that no one else was likely to recognize but which Bucky knew for a _fact_ had been tailored to order, matching the seams in Bucky’s arm

Bucky watched from the gallery, and every time Tony stood up, Bucky’s brain shorted out, just for a second, at how _fucking sexy_ his boyfriend was, eyes alight with the challenge of battle.

It made Bucky want to _do things_ to Tony. Preferably while Tony was still wearing that suit. Or at least that tie. God, that tie, subtly but unmistakably Bucky’s mark, right there where everyone could see it. Bucky watched, and _wanted_ , and when the hearings were finally, _finally_ concluded, Bucky made his way to Tony’s side and snagged that tie, reeling Tony in close. “Get us out of here,” he growled, low and quiet, “before I bend you over this damn desk in front of everyone.”

Tony’s eyes widened and then darkened, and then he had Bucky’s hand in his and was pushing through the crowd, waving and quipping for the news crews but _not stopping_ , thank all the gods.

They’d arrived in a limousine, because this had been a power play, and it was waiting now just outside the building. Happy opened the door as they came down the steps, and Tony all but shoved Bucky into the car. “Privacy screen,” Tony ordered as he climbed in behind Bucky, and all the windows faded to opaque, and Bucky’s enhanced hearing picked up the soft hum of the sound barrier that had gone up between them and the front seat.

Which meant that Bucky was finally allowed to wrap that tie around his fist and pull Tony in for a crushing, bruising kiss, tongue and teeth and frantic need. “You’re so goddamn _hot_ when you tell Congress to take a fucking walk,” he rumbled into Tony’s neck.

Tony laughed and laid back against the plush seat cushions, pulling Bucky over him. “If this is what it gets me, I’ll stop ignoring subpoenas.”

Bucky straddled Tony’s hips and slipped the tie out of its knot, pulled the smooth fabric through Tony’s collar. “You want to know what this gets you?” he demanded. He caught Tony’s hands and bound them together with the tie, then tied the dangling ends to the door handle, stretching Tony out along the seat.

Tony went with it, he almost _always_ went with whatever Bucky wanted. It made a small part of Bucky _crazy_ , made him want to do more and more and _more_ , just to find _some_ kind of limit. But for right now, all Bucky wanted was this, here, Tony spread out before him, wearing Bucky’s mark on his wrists and staring up at him with that light of challenge in those gorgeous eyes.

He looked rumpled already; Bucky wanted to make him look _debauched_. Bucky unbuttoned his shirt, pausing after each to suck and lick at the skin it revealed, leaving purple suck-marks and red hickeys behind, until Tony was arching and moaning into each touch.

Bucky unfastened Tony’s pants and eased them along with his underwear down his thighs. “God, baby,” Bucky groaned. “You stand over every one of them, tell them all to go to hell, but when I get you alone, you’re so sweet. Let me do whatever I want.” Bucky bent to lick along the length of Tony’s cock, just once.

Tony let out a shuddering groan and tried to spread his legs, but was trapped by his pants. “Whatever you want,” he agreed, “just, oh, fuck, _please_...”

It was _trust_ , was what it was. Tony trusted Bucky in ways he didn’t trust anyone else in the world. It made Bucky feel even more possessive, like Tony had to be protected. Kept safe. Just _kept_.

Bucky ducked again and swallowed Tony’s cock down. He was past the point of wanting to play, to tease. He just wanted _Tony_. In him, on him, around him. Tony’s scent in his nose and Tony’s taste on his tongue and the feel of Tony’s skin under his hand.

Tony was nearly as worked up as Bucky was, moaning and writhing with each flick of Bucky’s tongue, each inward thrust and outward pull. Bucky hollowed his cheeks and took Tony right to the root, cock head sliding against the back of his throat.

Tony pulled on his arms, struggled against the confinement of his pants, and then gave one last, desperate cry before spilling right down Bucky’s throat.

Bucky kept sucking, gently, until Tony’s aftershocks became shudders of overstimulation. Then he let Tony’s softening cock slip from his lips and licked up the little dribble of come that still clung to it. He tugged Tony’s boxer briefs back up, carefully tucking his cock in -- to the left, just like Tony liked it -- and then pulled Tony’s pants back into place, as well.

Bucky sat back to enjoy the view: Tony’s shirt was rumpled and open under his jacket, visible skin marked with lovebites. The jacket was rucked up under Tony’s back from all the squirming, wrinkled and limp. His pants were just as wrinkled, hanging open on his hips to show the bulge of his cock under the fabric of his briefs. His skin was flushed and his hair had been mussed out of its careful insouciant style. And his hands were still tied to the door handle. Thoroughly, completely debauched. _Perfect_.

Tony smiled when Bucky met his eyes. “Gonna untie me, here, so I can return the favor?”

Bucky considered it. “Nah,” he finally said. “I like lookin’ at you like this. And D.C. traffic bein’ what it is, you can probably get it up again before we make the airport. But you can do me in th’ plane on the way home.”

Tony grinned up at him. “It’s a deal.”

 


	23. Roll, Baby, Roll [Bucky/Tony - Sex Position Dice]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Tony are definitely going to have sex... as soon as these damn dice _let them_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Tags: Sex Toy - Position Dice, Intercrural Sex

The dice clattered to a stop. “Uh... _Lick belly_ ,” Bucky read.

“Gross,” Tony groaned. “When are these stupid dice going to let us actually _fuck_?”

“When we roll _fuck_ something, I guess.” Bucky pinned Tony down and managed to make licking his belly into something approaching sexy, but they didn’t linger over that one they way they had for _suck nipples_ or _nibble thighs_.

“I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t roll _fuck belly_ ,” Tony conceded.

“ _Fuck neck_ would be worse,” Bucky said.

Tony laughed. “I dunno, I could probably talk you into interpreting that as _fuck throat_.”

The hell of it was, it had been Tony who had suggested playing with these stupid sex position dice in the first place. He’d thought it would be a fun and sexy way to add a little spice to their sex life.

One six-sided die was covered in sexy verbs -- _kiss_ and _caress_ and _fuck_ \-- and the other was covered with body parts -- _privates_ and _lips_ and _thighs_. They were supposed to take turns rolling, and the roller performed whatever the dice commanded upon the other.

Fun, in theory.

In practice, they’d been at it for two _hours_ and had yet to roll any combination of actions and body parts that might result in either of them having an orgasm.

And because it had been Tony’s idea, he couldn’t just suggest they give up and fuck like normal. And Bucky was the stubbornest sonofabitch Tony had ever met -- yes, including Steve -- so _Bucky_ wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, either.

Tony sighed and picked up the dice. He tossed them onto the bedside table and tipped his head to read them. “ _Caress lips_. Oh, come on, that’s just weird, now.”

Bucky tugged him closer. “Come on, baby, you know you want to caress these luscious lips,” he crooned ridiculously.

Tony fell against Bucky’s chest, laughing. “Stop making it weird,” he said.

Bucky grinned down at him, eyes bright and happy. “You love it.”

“I love _you_ ,” Tony corrected. He traced one finger around the outer edge of Bucky’s lips, like the prelude to a kiss, and was surprised when Bucky shivered a little. “You like that?”

“Like anything that gets your hands on me,” Bucky said easily. “You gotta know that, doll. Now gimme them dice again. I’m feeling lucky about this throw.”

Tony handed them over, almost resigned. Bucky rattled them in his hand and tossed them down onto the bed between them. Tony craned his head to look.

_Fuck thighs._

Oh. _Finally_. Yeah, he could get on board with that.

From the look in his eyes, Bucky was on board, too. He twisted, pressing Tony into the mattress with his weight. “Hand me the lube, baby,” he purred.

“I dunno,” Tony teased, “The dice didn’t say you could have lube.”

“Asshole,” Bucky complained, though the effect was somewhat spoiled by the smile on his face and the way his cock was rubbing against Tony’s. He stretched and snagged the bottle, coating himself liberally. “Just for that--” He squeezed the bottle again, dropping a dollop of gel right on Tony’s thighs.

Tony yelped and tried to squirm away from the cold, but Bucky had him pinned down, so all that happened was the lube got smeared around.

Bucky grinned, then leaned in to breathe hot against Tony’s mouth. “Push ‘em together for me, doll, make it nice and tight for me, yeah?”

Tony shivered and lifted his head to capture Bucky’s mouth in a kiss, but he crossed his legs just below the knee, pressing his thighs more tightly together.

Bucky pushed into that crease, slowly enough that Tony could feel every bump and ridge of Bucky’s cock against the sensitive skin inside his thighs. “Oh, god,” Bucky groaned. “You feel so good, baby, so tight and hot.”

Bucky thrust, his whole body undulating against Tony’s, and it rubbed the taut skin of Bucky’s stomach across Tony’s dick, and _ohgod_ that felt amazing, especially after literal hours of teasing. Tony wasn’t going to last if that kept up. He didn’t _want_ to last.

Bucky was moving faster, now, and Tony arched his back to capture more sensation, letting it build in his balls with each thrust. “God, honey, that feels-- Oh, yeah,” he groaned.

“Yeah, baby,” Bucky agreed. He tucked his face down against Tony’s neck and started nipping at Tony’s throat, sucking up bruises and soothing them with his tongue as he pushed into Tony’s thighs. “What you do to me, doll, god, you make me crazy sometimes.” Bucky was panting, his cock jumping and twitching between Tony’s legs, so Tony squeezed tighter, despite the ache in his thighs from keeping them tense.

He rocked up against Bucky’s body again, just as Bucky was pushing down, and yes, yes, yes, that was it, that was the perfect rhythm. Bucky panted hot into his ear and Tony grabbed a handful of Bucky’s hair and held on tight. His balls squeezed and tightened and his cock scraped against Bucky’s abs yet again and that was it, that was all he could take. Tony arched up and threw back his head, yelling with the force of his climax.

Bucky fucked into Tony’s thighs twice more, three times, then shoved in hard and stayed there, holding his breath as his cock pulsed with his own orgasm. “Oh god,” he groaned as he finally breathed out again, falling limp against Tony’s body.

“Agreed,” Tony managed, still breathless. “I’m gonna melt those stupid dice to slag.”

“Oh, I dunno, it was kinda fun,” Bucky said. He pushed himself up onto his elbows so Tony could breathe properly. “Intense, there, at the end, yeah?” He wriggled a little, making his point against Tony’s still-oversensitive cock. “And hey, _fuck belly_ turned out to not be so bad, huh?”

“Fuck _you_ ,” Tony laughed. He grabbed for the dice, intending to throw them across the room, but Bucky rolled over away from them, taking Tony with him, and stretched up for a kiss that was slow and lazy and heated and well on the way to getting them both interested in a second round.

Maybe the damn dice weren’t so awful, after all.


	24. Noise Cancellation [Natasha/Tony - Waxplay]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s brain sometimes starts generating too much noise, but Natasha knows how to make it quiet down again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Wax play, non-sexual kink

Nanite tessellation and temperature ranges and electrical conduits and lift dynamics and rifling patterns and polycarbon fibers and noise and noise and noise. Noise. Noise. _Noise_.

“Tony.” Her voice was smooth and quiet and above all else, calm, a port in the storm.

Tony turned toward her, groping blindly with one hand. “Nat. I can’t... My brain is too loud.” He squinted, and managed to find her standing right in front of him, leaning down to look at him. “Help?”

“Of course.” Natasha took his hand and he held on, too tight, a drowning man grasping for a line. She didn’t ask him to let go, though, for which he loved her. “Come on, now.” She pulled, and he followed, eyes squeezed shut against the cacophony of mental noise, trusting her to keep him safe.

Tech upgrades and phone statistics and data analysis and they were in an elevator going up and tensile strength and hydraulic pressure and they were walking again and circuit shapes and electrical maps and--

“Sit here,” Natasha said, pushing gently.

Tony sat on something soft. A bed, by the feel of it. He squinted his eyes open again.

Not his room, all angles and edges and lines with precise equations and plots,  Her room, then, soft and gentle the way so few ever saw her.

“Can you let go of my hand?” she asked, and it wasn’t a command, or a complaint. It was curiosity: _could_ he? If not, her tone seemed to say, that was all right.

Tony tried, and tried again. Slowly, his fingers uncurled.

“Thank you,” she said. She flexed the hand a few times -- he _had_ been holding it too tightly -- but then slid the same fingers through his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. Silent forgiveness.

Flight dynamics and targeting algorithms and pressure sensors and she was doing something behind him and static absorption and titanium-weave mesh and she was taking his shirt off and thrust capacity and weight-speed ratios and noise and noise and--

“Tony.” A hand over his eyes warned him not to try to look. “Get undressed and then lie down, on your stomach.”

His hands shook as he fumbled with his pants, but eventually he managed to get them off, along with his underwear and socks. He climbed the rest of the way onto the bed, hands and knees, and felt the soft but threadbare blanket she’d placed over her usual quilt. Oh. Oh, yes. Please.

“Head up here,” she directed, not touching him, letting him follow the sound of her voice, giving him a point to focus on. He crawled carefully, not wanting to disturb the blanket too much. When he guessed he was more or less in the center, he laid flat.

“Very good,” she said, and it made the noise pause for a moment, as if those words could only be said into silence.

Then it was back, almost louder than before. Curve calculations and code snippets and ultra-dense knit and the equation of recurve and the arch of a wing and the click of metal joints and high-viscosity lubricant and

_PAIN_

He gasped as the wax dribbled down his shoulder blade to pool at his spine. It wasn’t particularly bad pain, but it the heat built, the longer the wax settled on his skin. And it was unpredictable. Which way would it fall? Where would it choose to pool? Where would she pour next?

Some of the wax rolled off his back, dripping down his more sensitive sides, and was lost to the blanket. She poured some on the top of his ass, and it dripped down over his crack. On the back of his thigh. That was going to _hurt_ , when she peeled the wax off, and hair came with it. Tony couldn’t _wait_.

“Quieter now?” Natasha asked, pausing.

“Some,” Tony said. There were some ideas for superconductive nanofibers floating around up there, and a schematic for more energy-efficient engines, but they weren’t shouting at him anymore.  It was quiet enough that he could risk opening his eyes to look at her.

“Good,” she said. “Stay still.”

Tony hummed his agreement. A second later, he felt her fingernails scrape lightly down his shoulder to peel off the cooled wax there. It stretched and pulled, clinging, and left the newly-uncovered skin feeling cool and sensitive.

Natasha’s fingertips trailed over the spot, and Tony hissed a little at the raw feeling of it. She moved on to the next spot, then, nails and the peeling pull, and that naked, vulnerable sensation.

Each one seemed more intense than the last, pushing at his thoughts, forcing him to be in the _now_ and the _here_. He was squirming and panting by the time she got to the last few, the ones that tugged on his leg hair and left tears stinging in his eyes, but for the first time in days, his brain wasn’t pushing ideas at him faster than he could keep up with them, wasn’t pushing _anything_ at him aside from the feel of Natasha’s hand on his lower back, her fingers scratching lightly across his skin.

When the wax was all gone, she kept touching him, stroking slowly down his back and thighs. “There,” she said softly. “You seem much more settled now.”

“Mm,” Tony agreed, luxuriating in the touch. “Thanks.”

“Rest,” she told him. “You can thank me properly after you’ve slept.”

 


	25. Hanging Out [Bucky/Tony - Suspension Play]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky enjoys trying new things with Tony. This time, it’s a suspension rig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Tags: Suspension Play, Anal Sex

“Comfy?” Tony fastened the last of the ropes and tested it with a tug.

“Sure,” Bucky agreed, though that might be stretching matters a tiny bit. He’d been tied securely to the rig, his arms bound together over his head, his legs wrapped from ankle to calf and spread wide. The rig cradled his hips and torso, and when it was lifted, he’d be prone and vulnerable. So _comfortable_ wasn’t exactly the word.

 _Excited_ might come closer. “I’m ready,” Bucky promised.

Tony pushed a button -- because of course Tony’s rig was automated -- and the rig lifted Bucky off the bed, only a few inches, but enough for him to feel suddenly off-balance at the lack of firm surface underneath. “Whoa,” he said, twisting as much as the ropes would allow.

“That’s it, give everything a good test,” Tony said, as if this momentary lizard-brain panic had been something he’d planned for. Maybe he had.

Bucky struggled against the ropes, but without any leverage, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to break free. His motion had set him spinning in circles and rocking like a pendulum, and it was humiliating that he couldn’t stop it on his own.

“Okay,” Tony said. He put a hand on Bucky’s knee, stopping the swaying and rotation. “That looks pretty secure. How about you, hot stuff? You feeling secure?”

Bucky thought if he put all his effort into breaking the ropes around his arms, then he might be able to get out of the rig. It would take some doing, though. “I’m not going to accidentally fall out,” he reported.

“Good,” Tony said. His hand was stroking lightly up and down Bucky’s thigh, the light touch maddening. “How’re you feeling about that? Okay? Want to keep going, or do you want out?”

“It took so long to get me tied up,” Bucky said, “it’d be a shame to waste all that work by chickening out now.”

“It’d be a shame to spend any time at all on something that makes you uncomfortable or unhappy,” Tony countered. “I’ve got the scissors right here; I can have you out of there in thirty seconds if that’s what you want.”

“No,” Bucky said. “No, I... I wanna keep going.” It was still a little nerve wracking to be so helpless, spread and on display, but he trusted Tony like he trusted his own hands. Maybe more. Tony wasn’t going to hurt him. Tony was going to take care of him, make him feel good. Make him fly. “I want it.”

“Good boy,” Tony said, and the praise shivered through him, waking his cock.

Tony pushed the button again, and the device raised Bucky even higher, then moved him closer to the edge of the bed, where Tony was standing. “Feel like a crate at th’ loading dock,” Bucky complained, mostly just to cover his nerves.

“Sexiest shipment ever,” Tony agreed, grinning. “Remember your words?”

“Red-yellow-green,” Bucky recited quickly. “Hard to forget.”

“That’s the idea,” Tony said. “So unless you need to use ‘em, just lie back and enjoy.”

“What’re you going to do with me?” Bucky asked.

“I feel like I should twirl my moustache and say something appropriately villainish,” Tony said. “Like, _whatever I please_ , or _wouldn’t you like to know?_ But you nixed roleplay after that one time--”

“I felt like an _idiot_ ,” Bucky defended. “It wasn’t sexy.”

“--so I’ll just say that since this is the first time we’ve done this, I’m not going to do anything we haven’t already done before. Like this.”

 _This_ turned out to be working a lube-coated finger into Bucky’s ass. Bucky had totally missed Tony picking up the lube; the man was a damn ninja with the stuff. He moaned, letting his head fall back.

“That’s it, that’s perfect,” Tony praised, even as the gentle, short thrusts of his finger set Bucky swaying in the rig. “Just relax and give it up for me, sugar plum.”

Bucky couldn’t very well do anything else, not the way he was tied up and suspended. It lent a particular intensity to the sensation of Tony’s finger in his ass, making it a focal point of pleasure, the sweet burn of being stretched out lighting a fire that burned hot in Bucky’s belly.

Tony pulled his finger free and came back with two, and Bucky swayed in the rig until Tony caught the roped and held it still. Bucky was panting for breath already, his cock a desperate ache between his legs, the perfect counterpoint to the ache of being fingered open. “God, Tony, that’s--” He didn’t have words.

“I know,” Tony said anyway. “Just wait ‘til I’m fucking you.”

Oh sweet _Jesus_. A shudder of want ripped through Bucky at the thought and his cock jumped against his belly.

“I think he likes it,” Tony said, teasing.

The world dissolved into sensations -- the swaying of the rig, the ropes holding him up, holding him together. Tony’s fingers in his hole. Tony’s hand stroking over him. Tony’s mouth on his skin, on his cock. Tony’s cock at his entrance, pressing in. Swaying harder now. More Tony, filling him up, pushing a needy moan out of his throat. Tony’s hands on his body. Tony’s voice in his ears. Tony. Tony and Tony and oh god, oh god, oh _god_. _Tony!_

Bucky came back to himself with a slow, sleepy blink. He’d been lowered back to the bed -- when had that happened? -- and Tony was carefully untying the ropes.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Tony said when Bucky blinked up at him. “Back with me?”

“Think so,” Bucky mumbled. “That was. Intense.”

“Good-intense?” Tony asked, and if Bucky hadn’t felt the little stutter of hesitation in his hands, he would have sounded entirely carefree.

“Yeah, doll, it was good,” Bucky promised, waking up a little more. “We’re definitely doing this again sometime. I wanna know what other tricks you’ve got.”

Tony flashed him a grin. “Sure thing, buttercup. Come over anytime, we’ll hang out.”

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pillow Bucky threw at him.

 


End file.
